


The Youngest Child

by emanthony



Series: The Biggest Change [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emanthony/pseuds/emanthony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A novella taking place several years in the future post-Chairman Arc in the Hunter x Hunter universe. </p><p>Kalluto Zoldyck, the youngest member of the Zoldyck household at 19 years old, is aptly and fondly called troublemaker by those who know him best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

In defense of Chrollo Lucilfer, Kalluto Zoldyck  _was_ nearly twenty years old, now. 

 

Sixteen years was still a validly large gap in age, though.

 

Immediate regret and a quiet sense of awe were both etched on Chrollo’s face as he sat at Kalluto’s side in bed. The deed was done. They had slept together and it had been fast, rough, and filled with quiet whispers and a sense of urgency, like they had to do it before reality crashed into the room and said, “This is a terrible idea.”

 

Kalluto was already dressed.  _Chrollo_  was still naked and beneath a dirty sheet.

 

“Will you tell?” He asked.

 

Kalluto crossed his ankles, petite socked feet on top of the wrinkled sheet. “I won’t tell anyone the conditions,” he said.

 

Chrollo looked at him.

 

“I won’t tell anyone that we slept together, either,” Kalluto added, and one eyebrow lifted incredulously. “Obviously.”

 

“Alright. You’re one of only two people alive who knows how my ability works,” Chrollo said. It sounded like a threat and Kalluto smiled fangedly in response. Fucking had been a, hm, miscalculation, but sharing the details of Chrollo’s  _Hatsu_  had been a fatal error. “Some people know a few steps in the process, but few know  _all_  of the conditions.” There were four. And the last one was no simple task – eating part of a person without their knowing seemed trickier and trickier the more Kalluto dwelled on it. It was altogether impressive that Chrollo managed to follow every step enough to have an entire fat book filled with stolen powers, considering how much time was involved with every theft.

 

Kalluto smiled and tilted his head to the side, and a long waterfall of black hair fell down his pale white neck, and his thick choppy fringe fell into his eyes. “You’re worried I’m going to tell my father.”

 

“I worry more about your brother,” Chrollo said, honestly, exhaling. “If he were to discover how you learned – about, hm, this.”

 

“Illuni?” Kalluto picked up the fountain pen sitting on the bedside table and pressed it against his kiss-swollen bottom lip as he thought. He slowly dropped it back down into place. “I don’t think he could defeat you in a fight, especially if distracted by the thought of me having sex. Dad could, though. Dad wouldn’t care about the sex, not really, but he would love the excuse.”

 

Chrollo barked out a laugh; the first time he looked _less-than-constipated_  since they had finished. Really, he seemed almost sad, sunk in on the bed; like a child that had accidentally released their favorite balloon and were actively watching it retreat into the sky, gone forever. He would miss the balloon. He would miss having any sense of dignity around the youngest member of his gang.

 

“But I won’t tell,” Kalluto said. “The less they know, the better, I’ve learned.”

 

“Because you’re a smart boy.”

 

And that’s how this started. With a compliment. Kalluto basked in it; in being adored, in being worshipped, in kind words. He rolled over, pressed up against Chrollo, and slid small hands up his chest, gently. “Am I?”

 

Chrollo grabbed his hands before they could travel any farther and sat up, pushing him back. “It’s better for the Ryodan if members refrain from sleeping together,” he said, a loosely enforced suggestion among the gang. He just hoped the more perceptive of the gang members wouldn’t recognize the look of shame next time they all met. They probably would.

 

Machi would probably kill him.

 

“Are you sure?” Kalluto said, and he tilted his head just so – and their noses touched and suddenly the room was hot. Uncomfortably hot. There was no air, just this warmth pooling between them.

 

Chrollo thought about killing him, because it was so dangerous for Kalluto to provoke  _such base feelings_  with  _such ease_. A power even stronger than nen, sometimes. His hands tightened across Kalluto’s fingers.

 

Kalluto, always unsettlingly clairvoyant, pecked a gentle kiss at the corner of Chrollo’s mouth, and pulled away. He stood up out of bed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Just the once.”

 

Chrollo wiped the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and looked up at Kalluto with big dark eyes. “I’m glad we agree.”

 

“I’m leaving,” Kalluto said, spinning on his heel to leave the hotel room that Chrollo was presently calling home in Yorkshin. “My phone’s on for the next mission. I’m going to be in Azia with Hisoka for the next few weeks while he does a tournament,” he said. It was the second time this year he’d participated in a competition with Hisoka; he served the important purpose of culling the weeds so the blossoms could reach higher. Kalluto got cash and a sense of productivity by mowing down the weak combatants and Hisoka got his worthy fighters at the end. “If you get the chance, you should come. At least to the final fight. Hisoka puts on a show. And then he treats to dinner. Usually with his face still bloody.”

 

“Hm,” Chrollo, always noncommittal, pushed a hand through his short dark hair. “Text the details.”

 

“Oh, and Gon Freecs should be there,” Kalluto expanded, “So Illuni won’t be.”

 

The corner of Chrollo’s mouth tilted. “Is that a rule?”

 

“They don’t like each other.”

 

Chrollo, again, laughed. Kalluto smiled back, because it was a pretty amusing understatement. They were like magnets of the same pole; impossible to control around one another and liable to snap away violently at any moment if forced.

 

Kalluto stood in the doorway of the suite. “Less of a chance you’ll die with Illuni absent,” he said.

 

“You said that Illumi couldn’t defeat me.”

 

Kalluto’s warm pink eyes rolled away, looking across the room and out the expansive window on one wall. “Probably couldn’t, no.”

 

“Text me details,” Chrollo repeated.

 

“I will,” Kalluto said, turning back and walking out the door. “Bye, Danchou.”

 

Chrollo watched him go and pointedly looked away from how Kalluto’s loose thin-fabric harem pants hung off the rounds of his ass.


	2. Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalluto meets Hisoka and Gon, preparing for weeks of fighting and, hm, side projects.

“Killu? Sweetness?”

 

In the blackness of the curtain-drawn room, Kalluto felt his mother’s icy cold hands press against his cheeks, pulling him close. “No, mama,” he said.

 

“Baby,” Kikyo sniffed, hugging her youngest child to her chest. “I thought you were Killua. You sound like him. Your eyes -- they’re like his eyes. I thought...”

 

Kalluto sighed audibly and sank into his mom’s embrace like a tired rodent stuck in a trap. “I’m not him,” Kalluto said, the words muffled in the body-stenched nightgown she wore. Her frail body shook.

 

“I know, baby,” she said. She let him go and Kalluto stood up at his full height -- as tall as Kikyo. “You’ve grown.”

 

He’d been the same height as Kikyo for nearly three years, but he didn’t say as much. Finally, Kalluto spared a glance at his father in the doorway of the bedroom -- the one source of light spilling in from the hallway. He quirked one eyebrow and Silva nodded, taking a step back. Kalluto brushed by him on his way out the door.

 

“Bye, Kalluto,” Kikyo called.

 

“Bye, mom,” Kalluto said, refusing to turn around. He heard her bedroom door close but didn’t acknowledge it. He walked through the Zoldyck manor and out towards the car waiting at the front door, that would take him off to the nearest airport. He had a blimp to catch.

 

Kikyo took Killua’s disappearance the hardest. She hadn’t left her bedroom in almost seven years. She showered very, very rarely. She ate very, very rarely. Silva watched from the doorway as he forced her remaining children to interact with her on occasion, and then spent hours trying to talk to a ghost.

 

If it weren’t for Illumi and Kalluto, the Zoldyck family name would have dropped several rankings as a terrifying entity, because their parents were essentially useless, now. Silva was hard and mean and rarely made appearances.

 

Illumi had gotten uncomfortably strong, though, and that made up for it.

 

Raindrops fell on the window of the car and Kalluto pressed his forehead to the cool glass, watching the lush green trees of August rush by. The car sped down the mountain with a quiet rush, driven by one of the many butlers under Zoldyck employ. This one had dark skin and blue eyes and nearly a foot of height on Kalluto. His name was Dee.

 

He’d fucked Kalluto from behind in the powder room last winter, against the sink and facing the mirror. It was hard to take anything he said seriously when all Kalluto could hear was the memory of him babbling, “I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long. I love you --” like an idiot.

 

They had hardly talked since that night, despite Dee’s long, meaningful looks.

 

The car made it to the airport in near-silence and slowed to a stop outside of the gate with Kalluto’s flight. The trunk popped open and men outside began unloading luggage. They worked fast, rain pattering down around them.

 

“Are you going to meet with the clown again?” Dee asked, looking into the backseat through the rearview mirror.

 

“Yes,” Kalluto said, simply, meeting the butler’s eyes.

 

“I don’t trust him,” he said.

 

“I do,” Kalluto replied, and he offered a smile.

 

“That’s like trusting a hamster to not cannibalize her babies,” he said.

 

Kalluto slid up behind the driver’s seat. He leaned in and placed a warm, gentle kiss on Dee’s cheekbone. “It’s a good thing he’s not a hamster.” Dee tilted his head just enough, and Kalluto pressed another kiss at the corner of his lips. “And that I’m not a baby.”

 

Dee exhaled and it sounded weak. There was an instant, noticeable tent in the front of his black trousers.

 

“See you in a few weeks!” Kalluto chirped, pushing away from the seat and exiting the vehicle with the spry energy of his nineteen years. He beamed with a stunning smile at the stewardess that approached with an umbrella.

 

“Mister Zoldyck?”

 

“Yes, hello,” Kalluto said, taking the woman’s offered hand into both of his, and pulling her into a cheek-kiss. “Is this my flight?”

 

The lady was immediately flustered and red-faced. The umbrella waved back and forth, weak in her grip. “Yes, of course, uh -- this way --”

 

Kalluto didn’t let her other hand go, and walked at her side as she led him to the door of the carrier. She stopped beside the door and pulled her hand free to gesture him inside.

 

“Please enjoy your flight,” she said.

 

“Thank you,” Kalluto replied, and a bill appeared between his fingers as if conjured by magic. He slipped it into her hand. “I appreciate your hard work.”

 

The door closed behind him and the woman stared down in shock at the one-hundred dollar bill. “All I did was walk you from your car to the blimp,” she mumbled, dumbfounded. A horn sounded up ahead, signalling the start of the journey, so she backed away, money safely pocketed.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

She looked up and one of the flight directors approached, glowing baton tucked beneath his arm. Water fell off his nose, eyes wrinkled with concern. She cleared her throat. “Nothing. That Zoldyck just now --”

 

“Oh Jesus, I know. He’s not even the weirdest one of that bunch,” the director said. “I’d go as far to say that he’s the _nicest_ one.”

 

“I don’t know,” she said, turning to look at the blimp as it raised into the air. “I somehow get the feeling he’s not actually very nice, at all.”

 

Kalluto got a text from Dee.

 

_19:17 446-9984: Be safe._

 

He pressed delete and settled into his chair, smiling.

 

* * *

 

“You look so much like Illumi,” Hisoka said, hopping off the half-wall ledge he had been perched on. “Hm… Almost. He would never wear that.”

 

Kalluto approached Hisoka on the long dock along the ocean, having just deboarded his blimp. He glanced down at himself; loose thin harem pants, leather sandals, and a sleeveless shirt with generous cleavage. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 

“I miss the kimono,” Hisoka said.

 

Kalluto scoffed and looked up at Hisoka through dark bangs. He stopped wearing kimono regularly when his mom went off the deep-end. A lot of things changed when Kikyo’s mental train derailed, actually. “It’s hot,” Kalluto explained. “We’re in the tropics.”

 

Hisoka squinted up at the blazing blue sky. He had changed some in recent years; his hair was long now, and in a ponytail, and it was colored a gleaming gold. The sides of his head were shaved short and the earrings he wore stood out as a sparkling pink. “I didn’t notice.” The pink matched the white and pink suit he wore.

 

Kalluto knew he shouldn’t harbor feelings for his older brother’s, uh, _husband_ , but… His eyes fell along Hisoka’s defined cheekbone, the angles of his jaw, the long line of his neck, and then down to his bare arms.

 

Kalluto reached up and pulled one of Hisoka’s arms into his middle, hugging him, but Hisoka didn’t even glance down. He stared instead at the crowd towards the end of the pier, eyes razor sharp. Kalluto squeezed, fingers sinking into Hisoka’s warmth for just as long as he dared, and then he stepped back.

 

Countless others would beg at his feet. Dee wanted him. _Chrollo_ wanted him.

 

_Why didn’t Hisoka want him?_

 

Insecurity and anger began a low flame in his belly. _Stop ignoring me._ Kalluto glanced around Hisoka. “Where are your bags?”

 

“Bags?”

 

“We’re going to be on the tourney island for three weeks. Didn’t you bring anything?”

 

Hisoka shrugged, eyes closing like he were perfectly _zen_ with his lack of material possessions.

 

Kalluto glanced back at his abundance of luggage. Two rolling bags and one duffle. He hadn’t even brought everything he wanted to, either. His cheeks went a little pink.

 

“Sweet Kalluto,” Hisoka said, reaching over and lifting the biggest of the three bags onto his shoulder.

 

Kalluto’s face darkened. “Stop, or I’ll make you stop.”

 

“I’m only helping you carry your bags.”

 

Hisoka was very good at making fun of someone without actually saying a word, Kalluto felt. Hisoka picked up a second bag, holding it in hand, and they started off towards the end of the dock. There was a large group there and no doubt in Kalluto’s mind that they belonged to the fighting tournament; muscles gleamed in the sunlight to a nearly blinding degree.

 

Kalluto glanced from the group to Hisoka and back again. “You manage to stand out even among people cut of the same cloth.” Fighting-obsessed, blood-thirsty, violent, showboat-y types -- and yet, Hisoka stood out so tall and pale and in pink.

 

“Hm,” Hisoka sniffed, casting a sideways glance to Kalluto, “I could say the same.”

 

“I fit in just fine,” Kalluto said. Pale white, with sleek straight black hair down passed his ass, and round pink eyes -- he didn’t _exactly_ fit in.

 

Hisoka didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on the crowd, sharp and alert.

 

Kalluto blinked and followed his gaze, but saw nothing special. Well, he didn’t have Hisoka’s innate ability to pick up on strength and fighting prowess, either. He was like a bloodhound for power. The group of men and women were all fairly tall, and there were nearly two dozen of them. Some lounged against the beams of the pier, some stood in half-circles, idly talking. Only a handful even had bags. No one had more than one.

 

Not that Kalluto noticed.

 

“Ah, Hisoka,” someone said, a broad bald man with an ugly, half-smashed face. “Luggage, huh? I knew you were high maintenance.”

 

Kalluto felt a tingly sensation rise up from the tips of his fingers and toes; the feeling he got when his lust for death roared to life.

 

“Am I?” Hisoka said, not at all defending himself, or pointing out he hadn’t brought luggage at all. He smiled, eyes thin and piercing. “Kalluto, this is Tronet. Tronet, this is Kalluto Zoldyck.”

 

Tronet tilted his head. “Zoldyck. Like Illumi?”

 

“Kalluto is his youngest brother,” Hisoka explained.

 

“Brother? I wondered if it was a boy. Traded Illumi in for the younger model, then?” Tronet said, and the tingling sensation grew.

 

“I should be so lucky,” Hisoka said.

 

Kalluto still hadn’t said a word. He shot a glance up to Hisoka, eyes positively glinting. But Hisoka didn’t spare him a look.

 

“Tronet and I were at Heaven’s Arena at the same time some years ago. He’s still a floor master there.”

 

“It’s too bad you can’t come back,” Tronet cracked his knuckles, “I would have loved to face you in the ring.”

 

“My interest is less than zero,” Hisoka said.

 

 _In going back to Heaven’s Arena or in fighting Tronet_ , Kalluto wondered. Tronet scoffed. “We’ll get our chance these next three weeks.”

 

“We’ll see,” Hisoka said, sounding ever so enigmatic.

 

Tronet walked away, laughing.

 

“You have friends after all,” Kalluto said.

 

“I believe the friendly one is you,” Hisoka replied. “Everyone’s looking. Maybe you should go make some friends.”

 

He didn’t want friends. He wanted Hisoka.

 

Kalluto didn’t see a single person worthy of his attention. He sighed, dropped the duffle bag he carried, and dropped down to sit on it. A big ship was pulling in -- obviously the charter that would be taking them to their tournament island. It would be a short while yet before they could board.

 

“Done with it all already?” Hisoka grinned, clearly amused, looking down at Kalluto where he sat.

 

Kalluto hugged his knees. “Do I get to fight that one?”

 

“Tronet?”

 

“Mmhm.”

 

“If you want.”

 

Kalluto glanced up. “He’s not one you want to fight?”

 

“No.”

 

The typical series of events when working a tournament with Hisoka was that the most frustrating fighter, the one that Kalluto wanted to kill the most, would be the one he wasn’t allowed to kill, because the fight belonged to Hisoka. Kalluto got only to take out the low-end fighters, saving the cream of the crop for the final fights at the end -- that he wouldn’t participate in. He only came to these fights for the purposes of helping out Hisoka, after all.

 

Kalluto reached up and slipped his hand into Hisoka’s, squeezing.

 

He wanted --

 

Hisoka pulled his hand free and took a few steps to the side, still examining the crowd with narrowed eyes. Kalluto felt his resolve cracking, his desire pounding between his temples.

 

“Hisoka?”

 

He didn’t receive a response and indignance lit him up. He _wanted_ \--

 

A sudden warmth flooded Kalluto’s mind, like the sun was rising over the horizon to meet him, and he snapped his head to the side, to the source of sudden power. Hisoka turned his head at exactly the same time, and simultaneously their eyes landed on Gon Freecss.

 

Gon jolted at the start of the pier, skipping a half step back, and made a face. “Did you plan that?”

 

In unison, they replied, “Plan what?”

 

Gon sank in on himself a little and rubbed a hand down the side of his face, like he was exhausted already. “Nevermind.”

 

“Why are you wet?” Kalluto asked.

 

Gon glanced out towards the ocean. Sunlight beamed off his wet tanned face, making him look made of gold. A bead of water slid from the back of his hair down around the front of his neck and into the fitted green collar of his shirt. It was stuck to his body enough to emphasize his very broad chest and very muscular abdomen. Kalluto could see the deep Adonis belt that slid into the front of Gon’s fitted pants and examined the rolling waves of his thigh muscles. Kalluto felt, for the first time, that he understood the meaning of the colloquial expression _ripped_.

 

_He wanted._

 

Kalluto looked back up to Gon’s face and realized he hadn’t been listening to the explanation for why he was wet. Probably had something to do with the ocean. Maybe he had saved a baby.

 

He was the saving babies type.

 

“Hmm. You are a good boy to help, aren’t you?” Hisoka said, and Kalluto giggled. His assumption hadn't necessarily been wrong.

 

Gon scrunched his face like smelling something unpleasant. “Stop staring.” He turned to Kalluto, pointedly ignoring Hisoka. “Hi, Kalluto.”

 

“Gon,” Kalluto greeted. It had been two years since they’d crossed paths last. Apparently he still saw Hisoka with some regularity, likely due to Bisky’s purposeful interference, but once Kalluto stopped his personal search for Killua, he fell out of touch. Gon was nineteen then, and Kalluto had only been seventeen.

 

Two years had made quite the difference.

 

Gon hadn’t taken Killua’s disappearance any better than Kikyo, going pale, manic, and needy -- but at least now, years later, he was the picture of health. The picture of strength, too. Kalluto tried, subtly, to compare the size of Gon’s arms to the size of Hisoka’s.

 

He snapped pink eyes back up to Gon’s face and felt his insides turn.

 

He smiled.

 

Lusting after your brother’s -- hmm, _husband_ \-- wasn’t ideal. Lusting after Gon was frivolous. Gon wasn’t gay. He probably had a normal, non-nen-powered _fiancee_ back home on Whale Island, who knitted socks and baked dessert. Nevertheless, Kalluto had the mission in mind. He had faced harder challenges than _an island boy_.

 

Kalluto shook his head and reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. He looked out at the ship now fully docked. “We’ll probably be able to board soon,” he said.

 

Gon nodded. “Hisoka, do you need help with your bags? Here, I got it.” He took the bag off Hisoka’s shoulder and again, Hisoka didn’t correct the assumption that the bags belonged to him. “I’ll take yours too,” he said to Kalluto.

 

“It’s alright,” Kalluto said, standing up and lifting the duffle.

 

“I don’t mind,” Gon insisted, grabbing the handle of the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

 

Kalluto and Hisoka simultaneously examined the curve of his bare, wet arms where they were flexed.

 

“Stop,” Gon said, golden brown eyes narrowed. “I’m going ahead.” He went a little red in the face, turning away and walking towards the ship. “Creepy,” he mumbled to himself. His short spiky ponytail swayed in the seabreeze.

 

“He seems different,” Kalluto said to Hisoka as they fell in step several paces behind.

 

“Mm, I think he’s much the same,” Hisoka disagreed. He lifted one eyebrow at Kalluto. “Maybe it’s you.”

 

“No,” Kalluto said, “It’s definitely him.” His eyes examined the tight muscles of Gon’s ass with an almost scientific curiosity. It was like his body defied physics, somehow.

 

“If you say so, sweet Kalluto.”

 

* * *

 

The fiancee assumption had been almost correct. Kalluto was always a good read on people.

 

“She used to visit during summertime when we were kids,” Gon said. “She was easy to remember because there were no other kids my age back then.”

 

They had found seats on the topmost deck of the boat, high enough to see the pinkish white clouds floating atop the water in the horizon. Hisoka wasn’t paying attention, but instead had his stare fixed into the group of nearly fifty fighters on the deck below. Kalluto tried to decide who he was watching, but couldn’t tell, not exactly. Kalluto looked back to Gon, black hair sliding over his bare shoulders. “When’s the wedding?”

 

Gon blushed. “We’ve only gone out the once so far.”

 

Kalluto had literally no grasp on how dating or relationships worked in the outside world. Getting fucked by the help, by your boss, by pilots on a blimp, by sad older men drunk at a bar -- those didn’t exactly count as dates. “Oh. Don’t you know, though?”

 

“Know what?”

 

“That you want to be together forever.”

 

Gon tilted his head, eyes buzzing with question. “From one date?”

 

Hisoka was interested in the conversation now, and looked between the two of them. Kalluto sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would you date someone if you didn’t know you wanted to be together?”

 

“That’s not really how that works.”

 

Kalluto felt himself blush and looked off, frustrated. Growing up, and even while working with the Ryodan, he had some of the finest tutors in the world teaching him everything from calculus to literature. _Unfortunately_ , some subjects couldn’t be taught.

 

Gon smiled and waved his hand kindly, as if to flag off Kalluto’s ignorance. “No, I mean, it’s possible. You can know just from seeing someone that they’re going to be your best friend. It’s happened to me before.”

 

Killua.

 

“But that’s not how it happens normally,” Gon said.

 

Kalluto levelled him with a stare for a moment. Silence grew at the table, and Gon shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting out to the ocean.

 

“Has that happened to you?” Gon asked, breaking the quiet. He looked back to Kalluto. “Knowing you want to be with someone?”

 

Kalluto smiled slowly, eyes darting down Gon’s front, but he declined to answer.

 

Hisoka made a small sound of amusement.

 

A loud alert bell rang overhead, and a woman’s voice filled the loudspeaker. “Hello, fighters.

 

“Welcome aboard your one-day cruise! This is a quick message to get you all acquainted with the process for the next twenty-four hours. You’re free to train in any of the recreational spaces on every deck, but please be gentle on our ship! She’s only equipped to take a blow or two. We have a strict break-it and buy-it policy, here.

 

“Please note that there are unmarked quarters for sleeping in the lower decks. There is are mess halls with food on decks five and eight. The bar can be found on the highest deck and on deck three. Please take this time to relax, because once we reach the island, things are going to get quite challenging! We appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules to compete in one of the most grueling tournaments of all time. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

 

Kalluto yawned. It was only sunset, but he was already considering one of the sleeping quarters below. 

 

Gon had other plans. He reached across the table, grabbing Hisoka’s hand and Kalluto’s hand in one of his each. “Can we train?”

 

Kalluto looked down at the hand holding his. This boy was clueless. “Like, spar?”

 

“If you want.”

 

“I’m afraid I have a prior engagement,” Hisoka said, standing up, and pulling his hand free.

 

Gon frowned.

 

“I will,” Kalluto said.

 

Gon grinned.

 

* * *

 

Gon peeled his shirt from his body and it was the best initial blow he could have possibly delivered, because watching the slow roll of his abs as he lifted his arms over his head left Kalluto feeling buzzed and thirsty.

 

“Maybe we should fight without nen,” Kalluto suggested before he could stop himself. His powers were long-range. If they fought without them, he’d get the chance to touch Gon. Closely.

 

Gon, grinning, said, “Sure.”

 

The difference in fighting style was immediately apparent. They both dropped into stance and then flew at each other, but Kalluto’s movement was one of trained grace and Gon’s was one of raw street-worthy power.

 

Kalluto dodged blows left and right, realizing quickly that he was faster than Gon by a fraction, but Gon’s energy was so high that it was difficult to counter him properly. Finally he let Gon land a punch to his stomach, but Kalluto grabbed his fist in order to return a kick high to Gon’s head, sending him flying across the room. They landed opposite of each other, neither even breathing heavily yet.

 

Gon held his jaw, grinning. “You’re small _and_ strong.”

 

“I’m not small,” Kalluto explained patiently. “You’re gigantic.” This was something he had to share with everyone over and over; he was surrounded by giants in the Ryodan, and his own brother and father were huge in their own right. Kalluto was nearly 5’9; hardly a shrimp. Gon, however, was pushing 6’2.

 

Gon took off again. He started his same assault of fists and feet with rapid speed, but then took Kalluto off-guard with a roundhouse to the side. He flew into the wall, catching himself on one hand and landing back on his feet.

 

“That’s 1-1,” Gon said.

 

“We’re keeping score?” Kalluto asked.

 

Gon looked puzzled, head tilting. “Why wouldn’t we?”

 

Kalluto’s lips thinned. “You’re more like Hisoka than you think.”

 

“Eh? What does that mean?”

 

“Competitive.”

 

“I’m not competitive.”

 

“You’re right; you just don’t like to lose,” Kalluto said.

 

Gon _tsked_.

 

They flew at each other again, exchanging blows, moving in and out of one another with unparalleled grace. Kalluto actually had a handicap he hadn’t divulged to Gon; his sandals wouldn’t stay on without concentrated effort. The fact that he was still managing to land hits while concentrating on keeping the woven strappy leather shoes on his feet didn’t exactly bode well for Gon.

 

Then again, Kalluto didn’t mind losing. He wasn't exactly competitive. More...curious.

 

He let Gon knock him flat on his back, so that they both fell down to the floor, and reached up with an unsettingly powerful hand and gripped his throat. Gon flailed for a minute, bracketing in Kalluto on all fours. He turned wide eyes down. “What are you doing?”

 

Kalluto’s bit his lip and narrowed his eyes, examining Gon’s face. The width of his jaw, the slope of his nose.

 

Gon repeated, “Kalluto, what are you doing?”

 

Kalluto reached up with his free hand and cupped Gon’s face. He pressed his thumb gently against Gon’s bottom lip and wondered if he’d ever kissed a boy before. Maybe he had loved Killua like that.

 

_He was going to make Gon want him like that._

 

Fury snapped out of Gon with sudden force and apparently the no-nen rule went flying out the window, because the next thing Kalluto knew, he was flat on his stomach, wind knocked out of him. Gon had used enough force to pull himself away that it had sent Kalluto flying across the floor.

 

Unsettingly intense power. Kalluto looked up through the long strands of his hair at where Gon stood with his brown eyes blazing threateningly. Kalluto might be a stronger fighter, but Gon’s ability in nen was something intense. He had a bit of righteous anger rolling off him, like he was irritated he’d been forced to use nen to break Kalluto’s hold.

 

The righteous anger was a nice look on him. Kalluto blew his hair out of his face, cheeks puffed up, wondering the best way to make him do that again. And again.

 

“What the hell was th --” Gon started, but the alarm rang overhead, a repeated blaring sound. "Eh?"

 

Kalluto immediately reached out with his divination prowess, to find the source of the sudden cause for alarm. He didn't get far before the ship lurched.

 

The ship rocked hard to one side. And then hard to the other side. Furniture in the rec room slid across the floor, creaking. The lights flickered before going out and bathing the space in darkness. Kalluto was on his feet and Gon was at his side instantly, the two of them balancing steadily as the vessel rocked. The steady whine of the alarm continued until --

 

“Abandon ship,” a deep male voice said across the speakers, “Or die.”

 

The alarm started again.

 

“Uh…” Gon wavered at Kalluto’s side. It was too dark to read his face, but the sound of his voice was enough. _What?_

 

“We should go,” Kalluto said. He jumped when he felt Gon’s hand slide into his own. Warmth flooded him.

 

“You can’t see, can you?” Gon asked, tugging him in some direction.

 

“No. Can you?” They were below deck; no natural light available.

 

“Yeah,” Gon said, and didn’t explain further. They moved down a hall, listening for the distant shouts and exclamations of other passengers who were disoriented and angry. “Stairs,” Gon said, and they started up.

 

They got to the top deck, out under starlight, and there was a fire on one side of the ship. Kalluto could finally see again, and was surprised to notice that his dufflebag was strapped to Gon’s back. He must have grabbed it in the dark before leaving the rec space they had been sparring in.

 

“Where’s Hisoka?” Kalluto said, mostly to himself. He spun in a circle, hoping for a glimpse of that golden blonde hair. “Hisoka!”

 

The alarm continued and people slowly filtered out from the lower decks, confused and angry. The ship rocked hard to one side unexpectedly, with an audible explosion bursting with more flames. Gon lost his footing, but Kalluto was faster than gravity. He snatched Gon by his hand, and gripped a column on the deck, holding them both in place.

 

The stability was short-lived. The ship rocked the other way, sending them flying in the wrong direction. Kalluto scrambled to grasp the railing but it was useless to grip being sopping wet, and they both went soaring over the side of the ship.

 

It was no small drop; time slowed as the water came rushing up to meet them. Gon grabbed Kalluto mid-air, rolling into a nen-protected ball as they hit the ocean from nearly twelve stories up.

 

Kalluto lost both of his sandals.

 

The ocean was freezing cold, despite the fact that they were in the tropics. Kalluto burst through the surface of the water, gasping at how shockingly cold it felt, hair plastered across his face and neck. The massive waves rolling off the ship from all of its turbulence immediately sent him careening off, away from what was quickly turning into a pile of kindling atop the water.

 

“Hisoka!” Kalluto called. Another wave washed over him, filling his nose and mouth. He coughed, spat, and gasped for more air. “Gon!”

 

A hand grabbed his upper arm and hauled him onto a life preserver. Kalluto looked up to see Gon swimming at his side, grim with concentration. “It fell off the ship,” he said. He slipped the dufflebag off his back and pressed it into one of Kalluto’s arms. “Hold on. I’ll come back.”

 

Gon let go, pushing away. Kalluto scrambled to reach for him again. “Wait. Where are you going?”

 

“There are other people who fell off just now,” Gon called out. “And there’s more floating debris. I’m going to help.”

 

 _Idiot_ , Kalluto thought, _moron to go out into black waters at night._ “You’ll drown,” Kalluto yelled back.

 

“Nah,” Gon said.

 

 _Idiot moron_ , Kalluto thought, squeezing his bag and the life preserver closer, and squinting back up at the ship. The alarms were growing distant as the ocean pulled Kalluto farther and farther away. He squinted up at the ship burning down and went still as he noticed something at the highest point.

 

Standing among the flames was the silhouette of a man. Kalluto blinked, and then he was gone.

 

 


	3. Doing It Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deserted island. Violence. Tropical storms. Deep talks.

Kalluto took little pleasures where he could, considering that his life was filled with consistent threatening violence.

 

Sitting washed up on a beach while the sun rose over the smooth waves of the crystal blue ocean was a pleasure. He was often up at sunrise (or still up at sunrise) but he never got the chance to appreciate it like this, not ever. For the shortest of moments, he almost understood how normal people lived their lives. They watched sunrises. And ate bagels. And kissed their husbands before driving to a quiet, simple job. And when they went on vacation, they did as Kalluto was doing now: sitting on a quiet beach.

 

The soft white sand was gentle against his bare feet and hands, and the taste of salt had been dried out on his lips. A vacation.

 

“I am going to sue the fuck out of this fucking tournament organization,” a gruff, furious voice barked out.

 

A vacation for nearly ten seconds, anyway.

 

Kalluto looked over his shoulder at the crowd of fighters who had all washed up on this small island. Now that there was some daylight shedding clarity across the group, it was easy to tell that the majority of competitors had made it off the ship. A handful were missing, that was all. A handful -- and Hisoka.

 

Kalluto felt uneasy. Hisoka was extraordinary; Kalluto had no doubt he was alive and _fine._ That wasn’t really the issue. The issue was that Kalluto had come to count on Hisoka’s presence during Terrible Things. And recounting the day before, Kalluto now realized that Hisoka had been distracted. Repeatedly staring at something. At someone.

 

Hisoka definitely knew this was going to happen.

 

“If you hang your clothes here -- yeah, right here. They’ll dry off within the hour because of the heat.”

 

Kalluto looked over to see Gon advising a handful of the combatants. He’d started a fire and dropped a log nearby for people to dry their stuff out. They were now just awaiting rescue -- several of the fighters had working phones. Kalluto’s phone was waterproof, but the battery was already dead by the time he reached the island early that morning. Nevertheless, they wouldn’t be on the island for more than a day. And Kalluto felt confident that either the Ryodan or Illumi would come fetch him eventually, anyway.

 

“There’s room here to hang your shirt,” Gon continued to guide some of the crowd, smiling and pleasant despite the very long night they had all suffered through. He encouraged a few more people to come over, waving his hands, “If you need to warm up, there’s space by the fire,” he said.

 

Kalluto was still damp, but made no effort to move. He didn’t prefer to be naked or even _partially unclothed_ during the most ideal of situations; he definitely wasn’t going to undress here. He had better control over his body temperature than most. Another benefit of being a trained assassin from birth.

 

A woman, tall and muscular with lily white skin, pulled off her clothes, and set them out per Gon’s instruction. Gon, conspicuously red-faced and grinning like an idiot, offered her an already nearly-dry towel to wear. Many of the men were watching on, faces slack (or overly pleased).

 

Kalluto’s eyes rolled deep inside his soul, but he kept his face trained entirely neutral.

 

_Straight men._

 

Gon’s eyes landed on Kalluto and he started over, eyes wide. “You don’t need to dry off?” He stopped beside Kalluto, hands on his hips, staring down.

 

“I’m fine.” From where he was seated, Kalluto looked up and up and up, at the full expanse of Gon. He looked massive, nearly Silva’s size. His eyes dropped down to Gon’s uncovered legs -- he was wearing only boxer shorts and a tank top -- and his perceptive vision immediately noticed the tremble along his veins. A sign of exhaustion. He rolled his eyes back up to Gon’s face. “You’re tired.”

 

“Eh?” Gon blinked. “I’m okay.”

 

Kalluto slapped out the flat side of one hand with lightning quickness and buckled Gon’s knees simultaneously, sending him falling into the sand. He yelped and landed on all fours with a sudden _whump_ , and several fighters looked over.

 

Gon, on his hands and knees, barked, “What the hell was that?”

 

Kalluto smiled.

 

“Ugh.” Gon gave in, and collapsed down on his stomach, pillowing his head on his arms. “Fine. I’m tired. I swam all night. ‘S only natural.”

 

“I agree.”

 

Gon frowned. He was laying out beside Kalluto now, his head near Kalluto’s feet, looking up at him with those honey-clear eyes. “You’re really condescending for a teenager.”

 

“It’s not my fault that I’m faster than you,” Kalluto said.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Gon paused. “And I don’t think you are.”

 

“I am.”

 

“We were totally evenly matched when we sparred. You weren’t faster.”

 

“I was holding back.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Kalluto lifted a foot and wagged it a bit, so the sand fell off. “I was having to concentrate to keep my sandals on while we fought. My attention was divided between that and you.”

 

“Wh --” Gon pushed himself up so he was on his elbows. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He collapsed back down, defeated. “You Zoldycks are monsters.”

 

“You’re probably stronger than me,” Kalluto said.

 

“Which door can you open?” Gon mumbled. The Zoldyck estate was surrounded by a massive wall and at the gate, there were weighted doors that could only be opened by super-powered strength. Kalluto recalled that Gon had trained there, once, when he was just a kid.

 

“I like doing three, but I can do four if I really need to.”

 

“Eh… I could open them all,” Gon said, “I think.”

 

Kalluto’s eyes fell onto Gon’s biceps despite all his best efforts. “Probably.”

 

“We should arm-wrestle.”

 

“Ugh,” Kalluto scoffed, “You and Nobunaga. Why is arm-wrestling so important to enhancers?”

 

“Sh,” Gon said, “Not everyone here knows my nen type. You could get me killed.”

 

“Everyone here loves you,” Kalluto said. “So don’t worry.”

 

“Is that a joke?”

 

Kalluto smiled.

 

“When we were sparring, you had me pinned --” Gon said, and Kalluto remembered it. He’d touched Gon’s mouth, formulating the plan of how to get Gon naked and willing. “You were thinking about murdering me.”

 

Murder? Ha. Kalluto looked away and felt his cheeks go pink. “I wasn’t.”

 

“You were; I’ve seen that look before.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Kalluto said, matter-of-factly.

 

“Wh --”

 

“I was thinking about a _plan_ to have _sex_ with you,” Kalluto immediately cut in, turning to look back at Gon sharply.

 

Gon went still. His lips pursed little by little, until they formed a small, “Oh.” And then he started, “Uh, well --”

 

“Stop. It’s fine. I’m not planning to anymore,” Kalluto said. Seeing someone as earnest as Gon, helping everyone, swimming miles and miles for total strangers, had killed the drive. Gon didn't deserve it. He looked back out at the waves.

 

“Why not?”

 

It was Kalluto’s turn to be startled. He blinked wide eyes at Gon. “I --” He felt himself blush, again, “I was just doing it because I was --”

 

Why was he doing it?

 

Because he was in love with his brother’s husband, who would never want him, and needed an outlet with which to take back control of himself and his desires, and maybe if he made Gon want him, he would feel powerful again.

 

“Frustrated. I just wanted to hurt you.”

 

“Sex isn’t a very good weapon,” Gon said, the end of his sentence getting cut by a yawn. He blinked and rubbed an eye. “It’s just way too good to do much damage.”

 

Kalluto raised an eyebrow. What? Sex was an extraordinary weapon. It brought men to their knees, literally. It controlled their thoughts. It made them do things they wouldn’t do. It made them hurt themselves. “You really are an idiot,” Kalluto said.

 

“Maybe you’ve been having sex wrong,” Gon said, shrugging. He closed his eyes.

 

Kalluto’s stomach dropped, but he couldn’t quite identify the emotion that came along with it. His pulse fluttered and he forced himself to look away from Gon’s dozing face.

 

* * *

 

When the crowd had mostly dissipated away from the fire, Kalluto went over. He warmed his hands and feet, staring into the well-built flames. Island Boy knew what he was doing. He probably felt right at home here.

 

Kalluto spotted a spider skittering along a fallen tree branch and a small smile crossed his face; maybe he was at home, too. He was a spider, after all.

 

“So,” a voice came from the thicket of trees that were growing out the middle of the island, and a slender woman appeared, wearing a long dark dress that was mostly damp. “Alone at last. You’re an interesting one.”

 

Kalluto didn’t respond, set to ignore her. He looked back down at the fire, holding his hands out.

 

“You’re friends with the two strongest people that were on the ship. The green-haired one --” Gon, “And the magician.” Hisoka.

 

He still had nothing to say, but inside, he sighed. He was used to dealing with Hisoka’s crazy fans and even crazier haters at this point; after two tournaments together, it was just expected that someone would approach Kalluto and try to squeeze out information. Or threaten him. All in an attempt to get closer to Hisoka.

 

“Hey, don’t be like that,” the woman said, and she laughed. “I’m just making small-talk. Anyone with half a brain could tell that those two are very strong. I just thought it was interesting. How do you know them?”

 

Still no response. Kalluto turned his hands over, to warm the backs of his hands.

 

“They protect you, hm?” She got closer. “Like bodyguards?” She was at Kalluto’s side. She reached up with one long willowy hand and slid it down the side of his hair gently. “You seem well-bred. Like the type that would have bodyguards.”

 

“Don’t touch me,” Kalluto said, finally.

 

Her hand slid down to his shoulder, and pulled the collar of his shirt down, until it hung off of him and his shoulder was bare. She eyed the white skin there. “You’re like a porcelain doll.”

 

“I’ll warn you only once more,” Kalluto said, turning to look at her with haunted eyes. “Do _not touch me._ ”

 

Her hand retreated. “Sorry, sweetness.” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

 

“Kalluto, are you okay?” Gon appeared seemingly out of thin air, between Kalluto and the woman.

 

“We were just chatting,” she said.

 

Kalluto leveled Gon with an unimpressed look. Gon said, “Okay. Well, crank down the aura a few notches.” He glanced out at the group of fighters as if to guide their attention. The combatants were standing and tense, having been alerted of impending danger by the woman and Kalluto’s clashing auras.

 

“I’m fine,” Kalluto said. He resisted the urge to rub on the shoulder she had uncovered, to scratch at the hair that was combed by her fingers. “I’m warm now.” That was a lie, but he wanted to retreat to the beach. He turned and started away from the bonfire, petite feet leaving prints in the sand as he went.

 

“Bye, Kalluto,” the woman said.

 

Kalluto sighed and sat back down on the beach, next to his dufflebag. Gon sat down next to him a minute later. “You don’t have to sit with me,” Kalluto said.

 

“I want to,” Gon replied. “I don’t know anyone else here. I wonder where Hisoka is.”

 

“He’s either responsible for the ship blowing up or is occupied killing the person who did it,” Kalluto said. “I’m sure he’s busy.”

 

Gon was quiet for a little bit. Kalluto hugged his knees to his chest. “Kinda sucks that he left us here.”

 

Kalluto’s anger rose up again. He shot Gon an icy look.

 

“What? He did. It sucks.”

 

“Shut up,” Kalluto said. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to think about it. Hisoka knew this was going to happen and let Kalluto deal with it alone. Left Kalluto alone with some of his _fans_. With the squash-faced jackals of the tournament. Obviously Kalluto could take care of himself, but --

 

Kalluto’s eyes shot over to Gon, again, and drank in the width of his shoulders. His mouth filled with saliva, suddenly. He wasn’t totally alone. Hisoka hadn’t left him totally alone.

 

The irrational part of his brain took over, temporarily, and it hissed: _He could play with Gon._

 

“At least I’m here with you,” Kalluto said, voice dropping an octave or two.

 

Gon didn’t read into it at all and nodded, staring at the ocean, “Yeah. It’d be weird to not know anyone here.”

 

He was so _earnest_. The rational side roared to life, then, beating back the base desire he had already abandoned once. He wasn't going to fuck Gon Freecss.

 

_He could not play with Gon._

 

* * *

 

When the rescue ship arrived at about midday, everyone filed together to board. Kalluto was near the back of the group and was just starting up the long metal ramp that went aboard when he felt a hand ghost along the back of his hair.

 

Time slowed.

 

He knew who it was. He knew what they were doing. The beat of his heart was slow, and the seaspray froze midair as he moved, spinning around. The woman in the black dress was standing there, hand full of Kalluto’s hair, and she was smirking.

 

Kalluto moved so supernaturally quickly that her hand was detached from her body in less than a blink. It went flying from his hair and out into the ocean.

 

Time picked back up.

 

She dropped to her knees on the platform with a gasp, not quite registering what had happened in that single instant. Kalluto’s hair flew out in front of his face and he stared down at her kneeling at his feet, eyes wide.

 

“I said: do not touch me.”

 

The woman screamed. The sound pierced the air and the group of fighters all went still and at attention. Blood began a slow gush out of the stub at the woman’s wrist, and she grasped it with her good hand, mouth open, shrieking.

 

Kalluto dodged left, suddenly, leaping from the ramp and landing in the shallows at the beach. A knife swung where he had been standing, and a man stood there, infuriated. He too jumped off the ramp, squaring off with Kalluto for a fight.

 

Kalluto dropped into stance on instinct. He had no weapon, but he wouldn’t need one.

 

It was like the floodgates of violence had been opened. More men joined the one with the knife. The woman with her bloody stump was dragged aboard the ship. There were screams and shouting and the roar of the ocean -- it was a chaos of fury and pent frustration.

 

Someone dove at Kalluto but he spun out of the way easily, jumped forward, and kicked the knife out of another man’s hand. He snatched it from mid-air before it could fly off, and in the same instant threw it full force at the large brute running at his back. The knife snapped between the man’s eyes and he fell backwards with an audible splash into the waves.

 

“You want a fucking fight?” One of the men barked, “You got a fucking fight, baby.”

 

Another man approached and Kalluto kicked at his knee. It buckled backwards, snapping, but the man was only partially deterred; he kept moving forward with a shout, fist raised. Kalluto dodged the impact and chopped the back of the man’s neck, severing the brainstem from the spine without shedding a drop of blood. He fell, dead.

 

Kalluto snorted.

 

He hadn’t even used nen yet.

 

Two more men fell like stones into the shallow waves.

 

A sudden unexpected arm wrapped around Kalluto’s neck from behind. How hadn’t he dodged that? Kalluto reached up to grasp the massive arm and squirmed up to see Tronet, the fighter that knew Hisoka from Heaven’s Arena.

 

He smirked, his half-smashed face distorting. “You weren’t expecting a real fight, were you?”

 

Why couldn’t he move? He could blink and breathe and talk (probably), but his limbs were slow, like he was running in water.

 

“Are you a manipulator too?” Tronet asked.

 

Ah, Kalluto understood. He was struggling to move because of the influence of Tronet’s hatsu. Some kind of paralytic nen influence. Kalluto narrowed his eyes, irritation sparking. Tronet squeezed his arm and cut off Kalluto’s air supply. Kalluto felt his heartbeat slow, buying time, and narrowed his eyes farther.

 

There was a wet sound and suddenly Tronet’s hold went slack. He fell, slowly, until he was collapsed in the water, and blood slowly filled the crystal blue water around him.

 

Kalluto looked up to see Gon standing there on the beach, hand extended.

 

Nen bullets? Or arrows? Some kind of emission.

 

Gon lowered his hand.

 

"I was looking forward to killing him, you know," Kalluto said, crossing his arms.

 

“Alright, if you just fucking murdered someone, you are not allowed on my ship!” A barking voice announced. Kalluto and Gon both looked up to see the captain standing there, red-faced and threatening with a harpoon in his hand, aimed in their direction.

 

“Ah…” Kalluto frowned. “Shit.”

 

“Eh -- but I prevented a murder!” Gon argued. "I was helping!"

 

The harpoon focused on him, the captain’s finger on the trigger. “Try me, boy.”

 

Gon raised his hands in concession, sighing. The ramp was pulled up onto the boat. The only people left on the small island were Gon, Kalluto, and the wash of dead bodies.

 

“Lovely,” Kalluto mumbled, watching the anchor lifting out of the water.

 

“Can you at least send another boat for us?” Gon called out, hands cupped around his mouth.

 

Laughter erupted on the ship as it pulled away.

 

“Damnit,” Gon whined. He turned to Kalluto, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck, Kalluto.”

 

Kalluto tilted his head.

 

“What was all of that?”

 

“Oh. She touched my hair,” Kalluto explained, “So I cut off her hand." 

 

“We’re stuck here now.”

 

“You didn’t have to help me.”

 

“He had you pinned.”

 

“I would have figured it out.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

Kalluto narrowed his eyes. “The most recent person to underestimate me lost her hand, you know.”

 

Gon grinned. “Is that a threat?”

 

“Yes. Why do you look so excited by it?” Kalluto stuck his tongue out. “Idiot.”

 

Gon laughed, and the waves rolled over the dead bodies, and the sun glared down at the small deserted island. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

“Why don’t you have a solar charger?” Gon asked. They were seated side-by-side next to the smoldering remains of the bonfire.

 

“Why don’t you have a waterproof phone?” Kalluto replied.

 

Gon grumbled, turning over Kalluto’s phone in his hand. “Surely there’s a way to charge it.”

 

“It’s okay,” Kalluto said. “Someone will come here to get me.”

 

“How would they even find you?”

 

Kalluto touched the back of his neck, where his hair met his nape. “I’ve got tracking.”

 

Gon was quiet for a second. “Like, a chip?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that a Zoldyck thing or a Ryodan thing?”

 

“My father put it there. In all of his children. When we were born,” Kalluto explained. “They’ll find me. It was upgraded not too long ago, too. There’s nowhere I could go that they couldn’t find me.”

 

Gon looked uneasy.

 

“What is it?” Kalluto asked, leaning forward.

 

“You sound happy saying that, but, uh…” He smiled, looking uncomfortable, “Isn’t that terrible? You can’t ever go anywhere without someone knowing. It’s like you have an invisible leash.”

 

“Things changed for my brothers and me when Killua left,” Kalluto said. “This is the consequence. At least we would never lose him again, should he come back.”

 

Gon wagged his hand, brows furrowing. “I don’t think it has anything to do with Killua at all. I think your dad is a control freak megalomaniac.”

 

“That’s a big word for you.”

 

Gon frowned. “You change the subject a lot like you think people won’t notice.”

 

Kalluto’s cheeks went pink and he declined to speak further.

 

* * *

 

Sunset. Kalluto was almost glad to have been left behind, because this was, again, a sight he would never get to see otherwise. The sky was streaked in pink and purple and gold, fluffy clouds rising in the navy gradient distance. Birds swooped overhead.

 

“I got us some shellfish!” Gon announced, booming voice cutting into Kalluto’s personal peaceful vacation. Gon lifted a makeshift bag full of shells, grinning. “I’ll set the fire.”

 

“I can help,” Kalluto said, pushing himself to standing.

 

Minutes later, with the fire crackling, the shellfish cooking in several plate-shaped rocks, Gon returned from a pee in the woods.

 

“We got fresh water, too, over there,” he said.

 

“You didn’t pee in it, did you?” Kalluto asked. Gon laughed and Kalluto had to fight back a smile, too.

 

After they ate and it had gone dark over the island, there were rumblings in the distance. Kalluto sat up and could see the makings of a storm in the distance, based solely on the flashing lightning.

 

“Oh,” Gon said, looking up above them at some birds swooping. “It’s a bumpy one. I’m glad we’re not on a ship.”

 

“Is it coming this way?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kalluto sighed. He had just gotten dry like two hours ago.

 

“Don’t worry,” Gon said, oblivious to Kalluto’s concern, “It’s just water. It’ll be warm, too. Hmm, not too much wind.”

 

“Are you getting all of this from the birds?” Kalluto intended to tease him about it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The thought of Gon actually understanding bird language was completely absurd. But something tingled in Kalluto’s mind and instead of ridicule, a polite question of, “Could you teach me?” slipped out of his mouth.

 

Gon grinned. “It’s not easy, but we can try!” He pointed up. “What do you see?”

 

Kalluto squinted into the night sky. “Seagulls. Three of them.”

 

“Now, see how two of them are looping back and forth?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“They’re having a conversation.”

 

“You lie.”

 

Gon laughed and Kalluto grinned. “They are.”

 

“What are they saying?”

 

“Well, they’re talking about the other seagulls, and where they’ve gone to take cover for the storm.”

 

“What about the third one?” Kalluto asked, “He’s kind of coasting there.”

 

“He’s measuring wind speed and telling the other two how hard the storm will be.”

 

“Really?” Kalluto stared up at the bird. “How does he know?”

 

“How much salt and iron he can taste, how the breeze cuts across his feathers. Lots of ways. With nen too, I bet.” Gon looked at Kalluto. “Nen is in a lot more things than most people realize.”

 

“Nen has to be taught,” Kalluto said. “Unless it’s an extraordinary circumstance. Like a virtuoso. Birds don’t know nen.”

 

“Maybe you can’t see it, but I can. It’s in everything. Even in birds. It’s just your life’s aura, you know? Living things have it. Even trees have it.” Gon tilted his head.

 

Kalluto felt the wind pick up and brush his hair back, sand grazing across his face. “That’s a unique perspective.” _Hippie island boy._ But he probably had a point; nen flowed across the planet from fighter to fighter, but surely it didn’t stop there. Limitless power existed; maybe it existed in the unexpected things. In birds. “You’re a nen prodigy, huh?”

 

Like Killua had been.

 

They both fell silent and listened to the rolling thunder and crashing waves.

 

“Kalluto,” Gon said. Kalluto turned to look at him at last, hair falling in his face. Gon’s brows were pinched together. “Where do you think Killua went?”

 

Kalluto’s mouth opened -- and then closed. Was Gon’s thinking so close to his? Why did Killua come up at times like this? Every time like this. He reached up to pull his hair out of his face and had to look away again. “What are you asking all of the sudden?”

 

“Sorry. We’ve just never talked about it, you and me.”

 

The rumbling in the distance got louder and the wind picked up. The seagulls above took off, all three swooping away. “I don’t think he’s here anymore,” Kalluto said.

 

Gon’s look of pain was stupidly honest.

 

“I don’t mean he died, idiot,” Kalluto clarified. “There are other places than our world, you know? He’s in one of those.”

 

Gon nodded slowly. Light flashed across the sky as lightning jumped from cloud to cloud.

 

“Should we take cover?” Kalluto asked.

 

Gon stood up and motioned for Kalluto to follow, and they went into the small thicket of trees. “We’ll lay low,” Gon said. “It’ll mostly blow over. Might be a little wet.”

 

* * *

 

Water was pouring down over them, but the rumbling had mostly settled. Now it was just monotonous wetness. Kalluto hugged his arms, hands squeezing his biceps, staring down at his feet as the rain rolled down his long dark hair and soaked into his clothes.

 

“Ha. You look miserable,” Gon said. Kalluto peeked up at him from between long strands of hair. They were crouched close and facing each other, beneath a low tree.

 

“I’m not the outdoors type,” Kalluto said, “I guess.”

 

“I love the outdoors,” Gon said, and he looked off, dreamily. “Rain and wind. And sunshine… Sand on beaches and fresh seafood…” He was smiling.

 

Kalluto wondered what it would be like to be adored by someone like Gon. Loved honestly. Gon was _so honest._ “You’re a good person,” Kalluto said.

 

“Eh?” Gon blinked at him, a droplet of water falling off the end of his nose. “What do you mean?”

 

“The things you love, like nature, they’re good. I love things like the weight of a knife in my hand or the dense smell of a fire.”

 

“You loved Killua,” Gon said. He tilted his head and smiled. He then reached out and placed his hands on Kalluto’s arms, squeezing gently. “I loved him too.”

 

“Stop,” Kalluto said, suddenly struck with an ache in his chest. Gon pitied him. Gon was pitying him. “Stop. You don’t have to do that.”

 

“It’s the truth,” Gon said.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying. You’re a good person. No one wants to be loved by me,” Kalluto said, “But I imagine a lot of people want to be loved by you.”

 

It was too dark to see, but Kalluto was sure Gon was blushing. He didn’t reply.

 

“I wondered, too, a few times. When I saw you with Killua -- what if I had been there, too? What if -- it were me?” He sighed. “I wonder what it would be like to be loved by you,” Kalluto breathed out, just barely a whisper. What would it have been like to be loved by Killua?

 

Gon squeezed Kalluto's arms and he lifted his head in question --

 

Gon kissed him. Kalluto’s eyes fell shut suddenly and the world began to spin, tilted and startling.

 

He’d never had a kiss like this.

 

He felt it all the way down to his center. A warmth. An addictive, satisfying, overwhelming warmth. Kalluto held onto the front of Gon’s shirt, as if holding onto something would keep him from lifting away from the sudden shift in gravity.

 

Kalluto wanted to give as good as he got, so he tilted his head, opened his mouth, and licked into Gon’s parted lips. Gon jolted and Kalluto took his temporary lapse to knock him off balance and push him back, so he was pressed against the tree. Gon’s mouth opened, panting, and when Kalluto flattened his hands on Gon’s chest, smoothing out the material of his top, something seemed to snap.

 

Gon kissed him hard and his hands slid down to Kalluto’s middle, squeezed, and lifted him. Kalluto barely had time to wrap his thighs around Gon’s hips before he was in turn pinned to the tree, gasping. Their tongues became frantic and the warmth in Kalluto’s core turned to fire.

 

He slid his hands to Gon’s shoulders, holding himself up.

 

God, he’d _never had a kiss like this._

 

Gon pulled back, turning his head and panting. Kalluto, breathing much the same, opened his eyes. “Don’t stop,” Kalluto said, gently.

 

Gon shook his head and slowly lowered Kalluto back to standing. His brow was furrowed and he stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Kalluto said. “It was nice.” _Understatement of the century._

 

“Ugh, I am an idiot. Now I’m not even going to be able to look at you straight.”

 

A pause. “You’re right that it wasn’t a very straight kiss,” Kalluto mumbled.

 

Silence. And then one short bark of laughter. “So embarrassing.”

 

“I’m not embarrassed,” Kalluto said.

 

“Not even a little?”

 

“Why would I be embarrassed? Was it bad?” He had never had complaints before.

 

Gon’s hand covered his mouth. A muffled, “No. It was good,” came out from behind his palm.

 

“It was nice,” Kalluto repeated.

 

“Ugh. Stop saying that,” Gon said, and he covered his face. He turned and started the way out of the thicket, back to the beach. It had stopped raining.

 

A light bulb lit above Kalluto’s head, figuratively. “Ah.” He followed behind. “You’ve never kissed a boy before.” Gon didn’t reply. _Bing-o._ “That’s why you’re embarrassed.”

 

“I’m going to die if you don’t stop talking,” Gon whined, reaching up to cover his ears instead of his face.

 

“Did you stop so suddenly because you got a boner and it startled you?” Kalluto guessed, barely holding back laughter.

 

“Stop talking!” Gon shouted back, walking faster.

 

Kalluto was giggling when they exited the woods, and nearly bumped into Gon’s back from where he had stopped walking as he approached the beach. Kalluto blinked. “What i --”

 

He looked forward, and there stood Chrollo and his father. Kalluto’s eyes widened.

 

“Hello, Kalluto,” Silva said. His face was stone. 

 

“Hi, dad,” Kalluto said, voice shrinking. "Danchou."

 

"Hello," Chrollo greeted, polite smile tight across his face.

 

There was a silence.

 

Kalluto looked down at his feet, tucking his thick wet hair behind his ears. “See, Gon,” he said without looking up, “I told you they’d find me.”


	4. The Good Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalluto returns home and receives unfortunate news. He copes.

Their eyes followed Kalluto’s every solitary move as he approached Gon on the airport runway in Yorkshin. Silva’s stare was heavy and cold, Chrollo’s stare was wary and gentle, and Machi’s was feigned disinterest. They all three stood at the door of the blimp, watching.

“You have a weird set of bodyguards,” Gon said. “You didn’t have to walk me out of the airship. They’re going to think we’re doing something wrong.”

The trip had been in tense silence from that remote Azian island to the populated Yorkshin, with Kalluto and Gon sitting separated by Silva and Chrollo the whole way. No one exchanged pleasantries or anything; Machi was flying the private airship solo and was closed away in the cockpit by herself, too.

Kalluto couldn’t decide if the awkwardness of the situation came from the fact he fucked Chrollo only days earlier, from the fact that his father was having to reluctantly work with Chrollo to rescue his son, or from the fact that Gon Freecss was present and no one really understood where he stood as an ally or enemy among them.

Kalluto considered him an ally, at least.

“It’s okay,” Kalluto said. “I wanted to get your number.”

“My number?”

Kalluto pulled his phone out. “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

Gon nodded before breaking out into a wide grin. “Sure. My phone got destroyed, though, so...”

“That’s okay. I’ll just message you in a few days, after you get a new one,” Kalluto said. “Give me your number.”

“Okay.” Gon leaned in, looking at Kalluto’s screen. He said, “266544049-01.” Kalluto typed it in dutifully. “Freecss. One C, two Ses,” he explained. Kalluto added his name to the listing and then glanced up.

He stared at the line of Gon’s profile, admiring the faint color of shadow on his jaw from a few days ungroomed. His skin practically glowed gold, too. Kalluto leaned in closer, too short to really see eye to eye. He said, quietly, “I had fun.”

“Me too,” Gon said, and his face went a little pink, looking down his nose at Kalluto.

“Stop blushing, you idiot,” Kalluto said. “You actually will get me in trouble.”

“Sorry!” Gon jumped a step back, looking even more guilty, and Kalluto rolled his eyes.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay. Bye, Kallu. Thanks for the ride,” Gon called out towards the ship, waving.

No response. Gon walked off, and Kalluto joined the others on the ship, heading for home. He brushed by his father and his boss, who were wearing twin sour-faces. But, like before, no one said a word, and the airship left the port.

* * *

 

At the Zoldyck manor, Silva left his son and Chrollo alone in the driveway with a bustle of butlers walking at his heels, carrying Kalluto’s single dufflebag.

“Pity you didn’t get to participate in the tournament,” Chrollo said, once they were alone. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his oversized black duster and his black eyes were giant, emotionless.

Kalluto tucked his hair behind his ears, watching Chrollo dutifully, trying to read his mood. “I was only doing it as a favor to Hisoka. It’s no big deal.” He glanced off. “I wonder if Hisoka’s alright.”

“You should ask your brother.”

“Yeah, he would know,” Kalluto said. He paused and took a small step forward. “Are you mad?”

Chrollo’s face was unreadable. “I’m not.”

“Something’s wrong.”

A small smile crossed Chrollo’s face. “Working with Silva is trying.”

“Did he say something?”

“Yes --” Chrollo put out a hand and gently brushed at the ends of Kalluto’s long black hair. His own hair was cut short, bangs feathering over the visible tattoo of his forehead, which seemed pinched. “But I’m not going to say anything. You’re just the easiest one of the Zoldycks to work with,” Chrollo smiled again, “That’s all.”

A tingling warmth filled Kalluto.

Chrollo took a long step backwards and waved one hand in parting. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Alright,” Kalluto said, and watched him load into the town car, to head back to the airport. It had been a rather short goodbye. Kalluto turned to look up at the manor.

He started inside and pulled out his barely-charged phone to shoot off a message. He clicked the manor door shut behind himself, focused on Illumi’s name.

_15:15 Kalluto: Is Hisoka with you?_

__

_15:16 Illumi: He is here at home._

In Yorkshin.

_15:16 Kalluto: What happened?_

__

_15:17 Illumi: What do you mean?_

__

_15:17 Kalluto: After the ship was destroyed, I lost contact with him._

__

_15:18 Illumi: I do not understand. Are you able to phone me?_

__

Kalluto clicked Illumi’s name and clicked the phone icon to call. It rang once.

“Hello,” Illumi greeted, the low tenor of his voice familiar and stale.

“Hi, Illuni,” Kalluto said. “Our ship was destroyed en route to the island for the tournament. I wound up stranded with some other competitors, but Hisoka was gone.”

There was silence for a minute. And then Illumi said, “He had omitted some details about the cancellation of the tournament. I did not realize you were in any peril.”

“Dad came for me. And Danchou. I’m fine.”

“I left you in his care.”

Kalluto yawned, feeling weary after two days of no sleep, and started up the stairs to his room inside the manor. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Illuni. I’m sure he knew I was fine.”

“It is unacceptable. Why was I not informed of you being stranded?”

“My phone’s battery died. But Danchou knew right away, and he contacted dad, and they came to get me. I wasn’t stranded but a few hours, really.”

“You were not alone?”

“I was with the other competitors. Some of them.” He danced, ever-so-gracefully, around Gon’s name.

“Gon Freecss,” Illumi said. Well, shit.

“Yes,” Kalluto said, voice patient. He opened the door to his room and found it in perfect order. The butlers had cleaned while he was out. “He was there,” he eluded -- gracefully.

“You were alone with him.”

...Well, _shit_. “Uh.” Grace lost. He sat on his bed, too tired to shower and clean the dirt and grime of the beach from himself, yet.

“I will kill him.”

“Gon didn’t do anything,” Kalluto said, sighing.

“Not him. Hisoka.”

Kalluto snorted. The number of times Illumi talked of murdering Hisoka each day was roughly equivalent to the number of times Hisoka shuffled a deck of cards. So, hourly. “You’re upset Hisoka abandoned me and Gon?”

“Yes, sweet Kalluto. He did this on purpose.”

 

On purpose.

Time slowed and it _clicked_ into place, everything, like it already had for Illumi. Hisoka had done it on purpose. All of it. “He left me and Gon on an island,” Kalluto paused. “He destroyed the ship himself to leave me and Gon alone on an island. Why would he do that?”

“His reasons were undoubtedly misguided.”

“He wants us to be friends.”

“Assassins do not need friends.”

Kalluto laughed. “Says you.”

“I do not understand your meaning.”

“What, Hisoka isn’t your friend?”

“He is not.”

“Right, he’s just your husband.”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you went from strangers to married, then. Immediately.”

“Indeed,” Illumi said.

“No friendship in-between.”

“None.”

“You’ll hurt his feelings.”

“I am going to hurt much more than that. I am ending our call,” Illumi said. “He is out of the shower.”

“Bye, Illuni,” Kalluto said.

“Goodbye,” Illumi hissed. The line went dead.

Kalluto dropped the phone on the bed and sighed deeply, eyes falling shut. Exhaustion pulled him down almost instantly.

* * *

 

He was shook awake by a gentle hand.

“Master Kalluto,” Dee’s voice rang out.

Kalluto opened his eyes slowly into the darkness of his bedroom. It was late, probably after midnight, and the shadows cast from the moonlight through his stained-glass window were long. He shifted to sitting and rubbed an eye.

“Master Silva needs you in his office.”

“Dad?” Kalluto pushed himself off his bed, standing, and made a face. “I stink. Can I shower first?”

“It might be best. Maybe change into a yukata?”

“A yukata?” Kalluto looked over to his wardrobe. “Why?”

Dee reached out and placed his hands on Kalluto’s forearms and squeezed, gently. “Just trying to help.” Kalluto searched his face, baffled.

“Is something wrong, Dee?”

“Not at all. On the contrary. I’ll lay out your clothes, alright? I’ll tell your father you’re on your way,” he said. He released Kalluto’s arms and took a step back.

“Okay,” Kalluto agreed. He walked towards his ensuite bathroom and stopped to look back at Dee once more, reading his movements. He moved quickly and was smiling an odd, private kind of smile. Cat that caught the canary.

Kalluto wondered if maybe he should talk to Canary. She was head of the butler staff now; maybe there was something going on privately among them.

Kalluto shook his head and went off to bathe. He scrubbed himself down as quickly as possible, but his hair was always an arduous task. Considering how tangled and dirty it had gotten on the beach, it was no small feat to get it in top shape again.

He went out to his room after toweling off, pulled on the black and blue yukata, and started down the stairs to a different wing of the house. His father’s office was almost like a dungeon, housed in a windowless room on the far corner of their estate, filled only with dim bluish monitors that tracked the movements of targets (and children).

Kalluto pushed open the door. “Father, you needed m --”

Kikyo was standing, fully dressed, in the middle of the office. Her hair was up, perfectly coiffed in an elaborated braided bun, and her skin glowed pink with powder. The dress she wore was elaborate and yellow and white and pink. It bustled as she took a step forward. “Sweetness.”

Kalluto gasped. “Mother.” He took a tentative step forward. “You’re -- up.”

She had been bedridden for years. And years. Kalluto had gotten used to seeing her in that weak skeleton state, hardly moving, hardly breathing. It was like he had stepped into dad’s office eight years ago, before everything had gone wrong.

Kalluto didn’t think; he just moved, and before he knew it, he was wrapped in his mother’s warm embrace. She smelled like mothballs; undoubtedly the result of her clothes sitting in storage for so long, but she was real. She was there. He squeezed her middle and felt gentle hands stroking his hair.

“Yes, hello,” Kikyo said, and she giggled.

Kalluto stepped back reluctantly and noticed his dad then, standing to the side. His lips were set into a grim line.

 

“Come, dear. Your brothers should be here shortly.”

“Illuni? Milluni?” Kalluto asked. Kikyo offered her hand and he took it, fingers sliding within hers with ease.

“Yes. We’re having a family meeting. We should move to the dining room, I think. More space.”

Silva checked the monitors and nodded. “Illumi just landed.”

“Is Hisoka with him?” Kalluto asked, and his voice must have been just the slightest bit too hopeful, because Silva leveled him with a stare that could crack glass.

“Family only.”

They’re married, Kalluto wanted to say. They’ve been lovers for almost a decade now. Hisoka had the Zoldyck name on more than one _official_ document. Including his Hunter's license.

 

But Kalluto kept his mouth shut, wisely.

He and Kikyo walked hand in hand through the manor, towards the grand dining room.

“Mama, what happened?” Kalluto asked. “Why are you up?”

She looked over her shoulder at her husband. “I discovered some things. Interestingly enough, Hisoka seems to be at the center of a lot of them. He is _not_ allowed in my home.”

Kalluto’s grip tightened on her hand. “Mama?”

“The clown almost got you killed.”

“Hisoka has never risked my life. He’s like a brother --”

“Shush,” Kikyo said, and Kalluto’s mouth clicked shut audibly.

* * *

 

“Milluki!” Kalluto said, pushing up off his seat in the dining room. He padded over to his brother and was pulled into an awkward one-armed hug. He hadn’t seen Milluki in almost two years, despite the fact that Milluki lived much closer than Illumi, in his own smaller private home just an hour or two away. He was just very busy -- apparently. He was large, stocky, and strong-looking, with gigantic hands and narrowed black eyes.

Milluki just grunted in greeting and patted Kalluto on the head. He looked out into the dining room and froze still when his eyes landed on Kikyo.

Kalluto smirked. “Mom’s up.”

“Mother,” Milluki said, voice as breathless as when Kalluto had discovered her an hour ago.

“Hello, darling,” Kikyo greeted stiffly.

Illumi walked through the doorway to the dining room then, too. His hair was done in a long french braid that fell nearly to his knees, sleek and black, and his attire was dark green and well-tailored, as usual. He showed no shock at seeing Kikyo. He placed one hand on Milluki’s shoulder as a form of hello.

“Illuni, hi,” Kalluto said, turning to him.

“Hello, sweet Kalluto,” Illumi said, voice stoic. He leaned in and pulled Kalluto towards him by the front ends of his hair, until he was close enough for a short kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Are you alright?”

Kalluto sighed. “I said I’m fine; it was all fine. Did you leave Hisoka alive, at least?”

Illumi’s jaw ticked and he declined to answer, which was as good of a _yes_ as Kalluto would get. He looked instead to his parents. Kikyo was seated at the head of the table with Silva standing at her side. “Mother. Father.”

“Sit,” Silva said, deep voice washing over the children like the word of god. Kalluto dropped into a chair easily.

“Where’s grandfather?” Milluki asked.

“He’s on a job, but he’s already been appraised of our situation,” Silva said.

“And what situation is that?” Illumi asked. Kalluto nodded and looked between his parents.

Kikyo cleared her throat. “We have decided that Kalluto is now the heir to the Zoldyck family.”

Silence.

Long, suffocating silence.

The news didn’t process in Kalluto’s mind; it swirled around his consciousness like water down a drain, not sticking.

“Killua’s heir,” Milluki finally said. “You said Killua is heir.”

“Killua is gone,” Kikyo barked.

Kalluto gripped the edge of the table. He looked from his mother and the deep twisted lines on her mouth to his father, who seemed to be a statue. “Why me?”

“There are three stipulations to be designated heir,” Silva said, “You’re the only child remaining who meets even one of them.”

Kalluto suddenly couldn’t breathe. “What -- do I meet --?”

“The heir has to have Zoldyck features. White hair or blue eyes. Obviously, none of you fill that role.”

Alluka would have been second in line, then, after Killua. But she was gone, too.

“The heir has to have a Transmuter nen type.”

Kalluto, Milluki, and Illumi were all Manipulators.

“The one stipulation that you meet is that the heir has to have the strongest natural potential in nen of the children.”

Kalluto immediately shook his head. “Illumi has that. Illumi is the strongest.”

“No,” Kikyo said.

Kalluto continued, though. “He is. He’s the strongest right now -- he’s stronger than you, dad. He’s stronger than me --” he looked at Illumi, eyes wide. “You’re stronger than me.”

“Indeed,” Illumi said. His big round eyes rolled over to his parents. “I suppose the ranking system is not so straightforward.”

“You’re right,” Silva said. “It’s a formula rendered when each of you were born, based on a blood sample. Killua was the strongest; his natural nen ability was vastly superior to even myself.”

Silence fell over the table again. Kalluto felt like he had been electrocuted; his whole body was tingling and hot. Heir. Heir to the family.

He’d have to get married.

He’d have to have children.

He’d have to live in the manor. Forever.

“No,” Kalluto said, the sound a whisper. “I’m not meant to do this.”

“You don’t have a choice, sweetness,” Kikyo said.

Kalluto stood up, shaking his head. “No, mama, you don’t understand. I’m gay --” he looked to Silva. His father knew. He had to know. “I’m gay. I can’t be heir -- I don’t want children or a wife -- I wanted to move to Yorkshin, like Illuni --”

“Shush,” Kikyo barked, and she stood up herself.

“I --”

“Quiet, Kalluto,” Kikyo snapped, slamming her hands atop the table to emphasize her point. “This is your responsibility now. Do you understand me? It’s yours and you cannot take it back.”

Silva reached out to hold Kikyo’s arm. He nodded. “It is for the best, Kalluto.”

He looked to Illumi now, lost, but Illumi was staring at mother with utter blankness. Quietly, Kalluto sat down and asked, “What do I have to do?”

“This is a good thing, Kalluto,” Silva said. “The mansion is yours. The butlers, too. The fortune. We already know of your _situation_ , my son -- we’ll make arrangements.” Situation? The fact that he was gay was a _situation_?

Kalluto had a sudden irrational regret he hadn’t fucked more men before now.

“Dee is now your head of security,” Kikyo added. “He's now in charge of protection of the heir. He’s a very good butler, you know.”

Dee knew about this, Kalluto realized. It’s why he had laid out the yukata.

“What brought this on?” Illumi asked.

“When _your clown_ risked my son’s life,” Kikyo replied, “I knew I must step in. I am stepping in. I am fixing it.”

Illumi finally spared Kalluto a glance, and he was immediately able to interpret it: _how did Kikyo even know?_   Silva was certainly not stupid enough to tell Kikyo when one of her children went missing. Not after losing Killua like they had.

“What about Killua?” Milluki asked, bringing up his point from before. “He’s not dead. We know he’s not.”

“He’s gone,” Kikyo hissed. “He’s gone and we are picking up the pieces of what he left.”

“What if he comes back?” Milluki asked.

“He’s not going to come back,” Kikyo said.

“But if he does,” Silva added, “We’ll change the arrangement. Right now, Kalluto, we’ll set you up after your twentieth birthday.”

“Three weeks?” Kalluto said, feeling weak.

“It’s fine, sweetness,” Kikyo said. “You’ll just be meeting with suitors, then. You don't need to get married for another year or two, and children aren't even necessary straight away after that, either.”

“Suitors? Women?”

“Mothers to your future children.”

He wasn’t okay with this. He didn’t know how to say it. He was so good at fighting, but he'd never been trained to combat with this.

“Kalluto,” Kikyo snapped, and her voice echoed in the room for a brief moment. “You will do as I say.”

Kalluto swayed in his chair and then turned his stare down, to his feet. He couldn't say no. He knew, at that moment, _he could never say no_. “Yes, mother,” he replied.

* * *

 

He sat tucked against Illumi’s side in Illumi’s old bed, staring numbly at the wall while his brother tapped away at his phone, texting Hisoka.

Bleep. New message.

Illumi sighed quietly and tapped out a response.

Whoosh. Message sent.

Bleep. New message.

Whoosh. Message sent.

Kalluto sank down, shifting lower until his head rested on Illumi’s lap, and closed his eyes. It was almost four in the morning and he still hadn’t properly slept since leaving for the tournament. He was tired but far too on edge to sleep; the tension made his body feel made of brick.

Bleep. New message.

“Hisoka would like to know how you are doing.”

Kalluto opened his eyes. “Fine.”

“He will apologize to you properly soon.”

“He doesn’t have to. I’m fine.”

The room was filled with silence for a beat, and Kalluto’s hands balled into fists against his chest from where he was laying on his side.

“I will not let anything happen to you,” Illumi said, voice just above a whisper.

Kalluto rolled over, to look up at him. “I’m not scared,” he said.

“I did not say you were.”

“You’re trying to comfort me. I’m not scared.”

Illumi stared down his nose at him, eyes narrowed. “I am only showing my support for you. That is all.”

Kalluto rolled back to his side and nodded once.

Illumi was loving in a way that would have never happened if Killua hadn’t left. The day it happened; the day he fell off the radar, everything changed. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that broke Illumi in half and _this_ side -- the side that loved Kalluto a little more genuinely -- had won.

The day Killua left, he killed Mike. The great massive guard dog was at the gate of the mountain. Illumi was leaving the manor, moving swiftly and with purpose to retrieve his brother from wherever he’d disappeared from father's radar -- but he was stopped. By Mike, who had a note pinned to his collar.

_**Turn around.** _

__

_**Go back to the manor.** _

__

_**Do not look for me.** _

__

_**This is your only warning.** _

Illumi crumpled the note in his fist and immediately turned to leave through the massive gates on the estate.

The shriek of pain and the audible gush of blood were immediately followed by a wave of blackish red blood and shards of bone that coated Illumi top to bottom. He turned, slowly, eyes wide. Mike was twisted and dead, blood still gushing from the scattered remnants of his body. It was like a bomb of carnage -- for twenty feet in all directions, sticky wet chunks dripped red.

 

Mike had been contorted into a long rope of gore that spelled out:

_**I SAID: DO NOT FOLLOW.** _

Canary had been the first one to find Illumi by the gate, where he was stood frozen and seemingly incapable of moving away from the quickly melting flesh of his family dog. It wasn’t the gore that had him so stunned; Illumi had handled situations even more horrendous than this. It wasn’t even the note; cruel in its simplicity.

No, it was the moment that Illumi realized Killua did not love him.

Killua killed their guard dog to protect his sister, to escape his family. To escape _Illumi._

Canary wiped the blood off Illumi’s face with a handkerchief and guided him back home, to the estate, without saying a word. She could feel it, though. Illumi, the passive doll of no emotion, with no soul -- was heartbroken.

Maybe if Hisoka didn’t exist, Illumi would have simply been _broken_. But Hisoka did exist, and because of him, Illumi had a _heart_.

The heart won, in the end.

He cared for Kalluto very much.

“I’m not sure what to do,” Kalluto finally whispered.

“I know, sweet Kalluto,” Illumi said back. He combed a hand through Kalluto’s hair, gently brushing his scalp. “It will be okay.”

The tension melted from him and Kalluto’s eyes closed. Illumi would do it right this time. And Kalluto would figure out what to do.

He fell asleep in his brother’s lap, exhausted.

* * *

 

Kalluto had to find Killua.

It was the very first thought Kalluto had when he woke up in Illumi’s room the next day at lunchtime, light streaming in from outside. He had been covered with blankets and given a pillow at some point, but Illumi was gone. Kalluto sat up and rubbed his face.

The answer was so obvious. This was his absolute last chance.

He had to find Killua.

He slid out of bed and began to stretch, pulling his limbs out of sleep. It wasn’t long before a butler knocked and entered the room. Kalluto looked up from where he was touching his toes, stomach turning the more he thought about the possibilities.

“Do you need any assistance?” Dee asked. He was dressed in a black suit and white tie, his thick wavy hair gelled close to his head. He seemed a bit taller now; maybe a bit more bold. The promotion had clearly been good for him.

The _promotion_. A sense of helplessness gripped Kalluto’s insides. It was immediately followed by desperate resolve. “Hello, Dee,” Kalluto greeted. His eyes darted down and back up, and suddenly he remembered why he’d actually had sex with Dee to begin with.

That was a good-looking man.

“Hello, Master Kalluto.” His voice dropped an octave or two. Kalluto had been far too obvious.

He bit his lip and took a slow step forward. _Desperate resolve._

“Congratulations are in order,” Dee said.

“Oh?” Kalluto’s body went warm. He reached forward, dusting Dee’s lapels with the tips of his fingers. “Are you going to congratulate me?”

“Kalluto…” Dee said, voice a hush. “Don’t -- tempt me --”

He leaned forward, palms pressed against Dee’s chest. “Tempt you?” He leaned forward, and brushed their noses together. “I’m asking you. _Congratulate me_.”

The weak breathless moan that came out of Dee gave Kalluto a heady rush of power that made everything alright again, and they were kissing. Dee crowded him back, until he hit the vanity against one wall of Illumi’s room. He sat on it, legs wrapping around Dee’s middle just as their tongues touched.

Dee had Kalluto’s hips pinned beneath his own. He rocked forward and Kalluto sighed into the kiss. They were both hard. “Yeah,” he said, approving.

“Do you want more?” Dee asked.

“Yes. Make me come,” Kalluto said.

Dee made quick work pulling apart Kalluto’s yukata. He leaned in to kiss his collarbone and whispered, “You’re so beautiful. Porcelain. Beautiful. It's unreal.”

Kalluto closed his eyes, turning his head away. He felt fingers close around his dick and gave an approving groan in response.

Dee slid his own cock free and pressed it into his palm, so they could rut together. Kalluto bit his lip and then fell back, arched over Illumi’s vanity. He jerked his hips up with every pump of Dee’s fist, until Dee returned the favor. They panted and moaned against each other until they were both damp with sweat. The rhythmic snap of the vanity table against the wall picked up in pace and Kalluto couldn't help but to say, "Yes."

“I’ve dreamt of fucking you,” Dee confessed, breathless.

Kalluto felt his stomach bottom out and he fell back, hands swinging for purchase on the table. He knocked over a few bottles as he gripped the edge, and they went clattering to the floor.

He’d apologize to Illumi later.

“I’d do anything for you,” Dee said. “Anything. Fuck, _anything._ ”

Kalluto felt his orgasm build and he panted, head turned, breathing into the hair that had spilled out over his shoulders and down his body, still half-covered in yukata.

“I’d give anything to come inside you again. You walk around with your ass begging to get fucked, don't you?"

Kalluto came with a gasp, head thrown back, vision whiting out. His body went stiff until the rush faded, and he melted with a quiet moan against the surface of the vanity. When he opened his eyes again, Dee was panting against him, having collapsed after his own orgasm.

Kalluto pushed at him until he stood up, and immediately righted his yukata. He ignored the semen spilled all over his belly and thighs; a shower would be the very next stop.

Dee, red-faced and panting still, tucked his cock away. He hadn't even taken his belt off. He reached up and righted a piece of Kalluto’s hair from where it was sticking up. He blinked slowly, almost like a man drugged.

“Can you please prepare me a flight to Yorkshin?” Kalluto asked, standing straight, cheeks warm, knees weak.

It would be best to not acknowledge what had just happened, he decided.

“Uh -- ah. Of course.” The immediate deflation of Dee would have made Kalluto feel guilty if he weren’t so overwhelmed with distaste at his yearning. The only one that should have been desperate in this situation was Kalluto -- his life as he wanted it was entirely at stake. Dee was just needlessly smitten. It was pathetic. “Are you going to see Illumi? He returned not even an hour ago.”

“No. I need to see another friend of mine. Can you have my bags packed in half an hour?” Kalluto asked, walking towards the bedroom door. “I need to shower before we go.”

“Yes, Master Kalluto,” Dee replied. “How long will this trip last? I’ll pack accordingly.”

“Twenty days. I’ll be returning the day of my birthday.”

“Ah, a bachelor’s trip,” Dee said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Kalluto said, and not a word more. He was going to make the best of his last chance at freedom. He was going to find Killua -- and he knew where to start for resources with which to do it.

  
Gon Freecss, after all, was one of the best Hunters in the world.


	5. Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See a glimpse into Kalluto's past with Chrollo (featuring: Hisoillu!).

The door opened and light from the hallway spilled into Gon’s bedroom, casting all of his furniture in a dim gray. Kalluto crossed his legs.

 

“I like your house,” Kalluto said.

 

Gon yelped, falling backwards, and slapped his hand against his wall to turn on the lights in the room. The lamps lit up and revealed Kalluto seated in the oversized plush armchair placed across one corner, adjacent to the bed. “God, you’re really good at that,” Gon said, placing a hand over his chest. He was sweaty, wearing a damp white tank, his hair stuck to his face, thighs stretching the fitted athletic shorts he wore. He’d been working out. Kalluto admired the sight for a minute before sliding his eyes back to Gon’s face.

 

“I’m good at what?” Kalluto asked.

 

“I have really good instincts. It’s hard to sneak up on me -- your zetsu is really good.”

 

“I still can’t hide from Hisoka,” Kalluto said, and he looked down at his nails, considering them to mask the little pleased ripple he felt from Gon complimenting him. “So I can’t be that good.”

 

“Hisoka cheats. He doesn’t even use en. Trust me. You’re good.” Gon sighed and reached up to pull his hair off his face and into a rubber band. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” His brows furrowed together in an instant hostility. “You didn’t hurt my landlord, did you?”

 

Kalluto scoffed. He wouldn’t need to lay a finger on a single soul to break into a vaulted maximum security bank, much less a modest rowhouse near the coast outside Yorkshin. “I have a favor to ask.”

 

“A favor?” Gon’s eyes went round and curious; all feelings of threats immediately gone.

 

“I want you to help me find Killua.”

 

Dead silence.

 

“Gon?” Kalluto stood up.

 

“That’s not a good idea,” Gon said. Pain was etched across his face. “You said it yourself that he’s gone.”

 

“You rejuvenated my drive to find him,” Kalluto lied, “I thought you’d be the perfect person to help me.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously. Just give me two weeks.”

 

“He’s been gone eight years, and you think you can find him in two weeks.”

 

Kalluto’s stomach knotted, but he forced a sweet, charming smile. He didn’t have a choice. In two weeks, he would be heir to the Zoldycks and trapped in a new life he never wanted. “I’m sure I can.”

 

Gon sighed. “I’ve been working with my friend Leorio on hunting some rare medicine. I can’t really go anywhere while I’m in the middle of that.” He looked up, sheepishly. “Sorry.”

 

“Leorio? Of the Zodiacs?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Him.”

 

“He would understand,” Kalluto said, desperation clawing up his throat. “Killua was his friend, too. It’s only two weeks.”

 

Gon bounced from foot to foot. “...Only two weeks?”

 

“I promise,” Kalluto said. Two weeks was all he had.

 

“Okay. Let me talk to Leorio.”

 

Kalluto smiled, relief flooding him, and pushed up out of the chair. “Really?”

 

Gon went a little pink the face, staring openly at Kalluto’s face. “Yeah.”

 

Kalluto bounced over, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and started for the door. “Okay. Meet me at the airport tomorrow at sunrise. Don’t worry; I’ll pay for everything.”

 

Gon held a hand to his cheek and watched Kalluto with the same blush. “You don’t have to. I have money.”

 

“Save it. You’ll need it for all of the trips you and Killuni will go on once he’s back,” Kalluto said, voice honey.

 

Gon nodded and watched Kalluto leave through the door. Kalluto was halfway down the stairs before he heard Gon mumble, not intending to be heard: “...His pretty face is dangerous.”

 

Kalluto grinned the entire walk back to his hotel.

 

* * *

 

Chrollo always had a fascination with the unattainable and the Zoldycks were largely very unattainable.

 

Almost nine years ago, having Kalluto in the troupe gave him a sense of incredible satisfaction. Kalluto had been a member of the Ryodan for a year before Chrollo ever met him, but that didn’t matter much. He was like a prize; he didn’t necessarily have to do anything except sit upon a shelf as a symbol of victory.

 

Imagine Chrollo’s joy when he realized Kalluto was so much more than that. It took Chrollo only two days after meeting him within the gang to realize that Kalluto was one of the most talented Zoldycks to ever come out of that family. His prize was, in fact, more than he had ever even hoped.

 

“You’re quite fast,” Chrollo said to him on only the third day after they’d be introduced, back when he was still in his twenties and Kalluto was barely a decade old.

 

Kalluto blinked at him, staring steadfast. “Thank you.”

 

“Illumi taught you well,” he said.

 

“I was trained mostly by grandfather,” Kalluto said. “Illumi spent most of his time with Killuni.”

 

“Ah. I agreed to continue training you while you’re with the troupe, so I guess you’ll be spending most of your time with me.” He motioned for Kalluto to sit. They were in a quiet house on the outskirts of a small mining town that had become mostly derelict. He kneeled before Kalluto seated in a creaking dining chair, and smiled. “I can train you in nen.”

 

“I’m new at it,” Kalluto said, “My type is manipulation.” There was something there, in the way he said it; a very slight degradation of tone.

 

“You’re disappointed in your nen type.”

 

“Transmuters are the most powerful,” Kalluto said.

 

Chrollo smiled broadly. “I disagree.”

 

“I have been taught so,” Kalluto said.

 

“I’m quite strong,” Chrollo said. “I’m not a transmuter.”

 

Kalluto didn’t reply.

 

“I’m a specialist.”

 

Kalluto’s mouth opened, but he snapped it closed a moment later.

 

“What is it?”

 

For the first time, Kalluto’s eyes slid away from Chrollo’s face, and he looked out into the dimly lit paint-worn space of the dining room they were seated in. “I thought I was a specialist for a long time.”

 

Chrollo tilted his head. “Why?”

 

“Because I have powers of divination that don’t fit anywhere else.”

 

“You’re a very talented boy,” Chrollo said. “You shouldn’t be disappointed in your nen type. There are powers outside of nen, too. I think you’d be quite good at some of them.”

 

“Powers?”

 

“You can control people with how you look and act. Make them do things of their own free will.”

 

“Like when I pretend to cry and the butlers scramble around me to help,” Kalluto said, understanding.

 

“Sure. Sometimes smiling works just as well, too.”

 

Kalluto blinked big pink eyes.

 

Chrollo laughed. “You don’t smile much?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“You should. I’m sure it’s precious.”

 

Kalluto felt himself flush head to toe. “I’m not cute. I’m an assassin.”

 

“No. You’re both.”

 

Kalluto nodded, eyes trailing down to his hands folded in his lap, and Chrollo found himself filled with affectionate warmth he was mostly unfamiliar with. For the first time in his entire life, he thought, briefly, that he understood why parents wanted children. He leaned forward and pulled Kalluto towards him with both hands wrapped around his tiny face. He placed a kiss at the top of his head and stood up.

 

Despite all of this: Kalluto’s extraordinary talent, his prize of being an unattainable Zoldyck, the charisma he possessed that afforded him rare affection from monsters and men alike…

 

Chrollo still favored Illumi.

 

Illumi was still unattainable. Illumi was still the first person he was not allowed to take. Illumi was the quiet monster that represented everything Chrollo admired in humanity.

 

He was also simply nice to look at.

 

Really, Chrollo had a crush on Illumi for nearly five years; since the first time they met and Illumi nearly crushed Chrollo’s windpipe like a brittle leaf beneath a boot.

 

 _12:12 Chrollo:_ Have dinner with me. I have some items to discuss regarding Kalluto. We start training tomorrow.

 _12:13 Illumi:_ Alright. Pick a location and time. I will come.

 _12:13 Chrollo:_ I’ll make a 9pm reservation at Bishop’s in Yorkshin tomorrow.

 

Bishop’s was a high end steakhouse; the kind you visited for very special occasions. Or if you were the leader of the Ryodan with a terrible crush.

 

Illumi and Hisoka had been living together for less than a year but the world knew about it. Chrollo knew about it. He didn’t care much. It wasn’t as if Hisoka and Illumi were together romantically; Hisoka could never be relied on to commit to anything, much less a live-in relationship with someone as cold as Illu. He was certain their arrangement was one of pure convenience.

 

Imagine Chrollo’s lack of surprise when he was seated across from Illumi at dinner and heard the words, “My current arrangement with Hisoka is only of pure convenience.”

 

“I imagined as such,” Chrollo said. He reached out and gently touched the back of Illumi’s hand with his own. “Not everyone will think so.”

 

Illumi looked down at their hands. “Oh.”

 

Chrollo raised his brows.

 

Illumi looked up and met his eyes again. “I plan to marry him.”

 

It would have been less shocking to have been doused in ice water. Chrollo went still. “Your relationship is...romantic.”

 

“I did not say so,” Illumi replied, and he pulled his hand back and placed it into his lap.

 

“Do you love him?”

 

“I did not say so,” Illumi replied. But the way his eyes squinted, just marginally, said everything. “Love is a weakness.”

 

“I’m sorry that I misunderstood,” Chrollo said, deflating. Illumi, utterly unattainable. Permanently. Or, well, as long as Hisoka lived.

 

Hopefully that wouldn’t be too long.

 

Chrollo could wait.

 

He was very good at waiting.

 

“It is quite alright,” Illumi said. “You wanted to discuss Kalluto.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Chrollo took a long drink of his red wine, and sighed. “I think he might be the most powerful Zoldyck alive. And I don’t think we should ever tell him.”

 

Illumi’s mouth quirked up. “Oh. Tell me more.”

 

“He has a very pretty face.”

 

* * *

 

Gon and Kalluto’s first destination was one of the most dangerous places on earth: Kippy Forest. It was a massive jungle that sprawled over the middle of a country called Akky and was mostly uncharted; all electronic devices went haywire and died once you stepped beneath the light-enveloping canopy, making it a very difficult place to track.

 

Illumi had searched for Killua there years and years ago, but it was as good a place to start as any.

 

Gon hoisted his backpack -- an oversized duffle including several days’ water, a tent, and other non-electronic necessities -- and turned to look at Kalluto.

 

Kalluto hoisted his own backpack onto his back and looked up. His pack was half the size of Gon’s; but he didn’t need to carry a tent or water. They’d be sharing. He smiled and Gon stared down at him skeptically.

 

“What is it?” Kalluto asked.

 

“Your outfit doesn’t look very jungle-friendly.” Gon’s eyes drifted down to Kalluto’s loose, flowy pants; they nearly looked like a billowing maxi skirt when his legs were together. His shoes were close-toed, at least, a pair of steel-toe combat boots that laced up above the ankle.

 

“I’m quite sure I’ll be fine,” Kalluto said. He glanced from his own outfit to Gon’s and quirked an eyebrow. Gon was wearing thick canvas-like pants and a jacket to match; all in green. It matched the ends of his dark green hair, which was pulled up into a high tight ponytail atop his head. “Your outfit is very coordinated.”

 

Gon blushed and grinned. “Mito made it.”

 

“What a good mother,” Kalluto said, and bitterness poisoned each word. Gon’s mom made him clothes. Kalluto’s mother made him a slave to the family.

 

“She is,” Gon agreed, oblivious. “Are you ready?”

 

Kalluto didn’t answer, but instead started down the first trail into the forest. They only ventured about two hundred feet before the darkness began to swallow the pair. Kalluto pulled out his flashlight made of a special, non-electronic material. It would last days.

 

“Where do you plan to go?” Gon asked.

 

“I was thinking we would go a few hours on the trail, then veer off to the left for the rest of the day. Tomorrow we will come back and veer to the right of the path instead and explore there. I was thinking your nose might be useful in the dark,” Kalluto said.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Do you remember what Killuni smells like?”

 

Gon was quiet for a minute and Kalluto didn’t bother to look back in the darkness to read his expression. They kept forward.

 

Finally, Gon said, “Yeah."

 

“If nothing else, you being able to see in the dark is a useful ability,” Kalluto said nonchalantly, ignoring the radiating tension.

 

* * *

 

“Shit!” Kalluto jumped left, just as a Colossal Tiger pounced where he stood. The sound of the leaves and underbrush crunching beneath his enormous paws rattled the woods.

 

“Kalluto!” Gon grabbed his arm and swung him up, into a tree. Kalluto landed on his feet on an enormous branch and the tiger roared furiously where he stood on the ground. “You got him really angry _really_ quickly.”

 

Kalluto’s lips thinned. He pulled out the small knife he kept at his waist and aimed to pierce the beast between the eyes -- to kill it instantly. He was such a bleeding heart, he thought, giving it such a simple mercy kill.

 

A hand suddenly covered his own. “Stop. He’ll go away. Just wait.”

 

“We don’t have time to wait,” Kalluto argued, pulling his hand free.

 

“This is his home,” Gon said, stubbornly.

 

Kalluto grit his teeth. “Yes, and he’s not being a very good host.”

 

“And you’re being a rude guest!”

 

Kalluto paused and the meaning of Gon’s words washed over him. He couldn’t help the smile. “Ha…” He lowered his hand and laughed, covering his mouth. Gon grinned back.  Minutes later, the tiger ambled off, huffing. Gon slid down the tree and then reached up to help Kalluto down too. He held Kalluto by his waist and mumbled without thinking, “Your waist is so tiny. My hands almost go all the way around.”

 

Kalluto should have gotten Dee to fuck him, he thought, hastily, as desire punched him with sudden force. “Oh?” Was all he could manage to say, reaching to press Gon’s hands against his waist. He looked down and saw how close Gon’s thumbs were to touching and Kalluto’s horny lizard brain only screamed: his cock would _fill_ you. “It’s close,” he whispered.

 

Gon went statue-still. “Uh, yeah.”

 

Kalluto looked up, squinting through the darkness, to see Gon’s brows pinched down in thought. “Are you thinking about fucking me?”

 

Gon snatched his hands away and took a step back. “No -- no, that’s -- it would be a really bad idea, Kalluto.”

 

Kalluto took a step forward to fill the space between them again. “Why?”

 

“Think about it -- we’ve got -- we’ve only got two weeks and we need to concentrate. To find Killua. We have to find Killua.”

 

Kalluto’s horny lizard brain protested that he wanted to get fucked and that the consequences didn’t matter, but the cold reality of his mother’s icy smile kept him from reaching back into Gon’s space. “You’re right.”

 

Gon swallowed hard and nodded once. “Okay. So, we won’t do that. Right?”

 

“Right,” Kalluto said and he steeled his resolve. “No sex. You’re straight anyway, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Gon shifted his backpack and turned to continue deeper into the woods. “I am.”

 

* * *

 

Kalluto moaned around Gon’s cock, tongue pressed against the underside, hands holding his hips in place while he slid farther down. His whole body hummed with desire, down to the tips of his fingers, even. He spread his legs subconsciously, cock twitching in the loose fabric of his pants.

 

“Kalluto, Kallu -- oh fuck --” Gon gasped.

 

They had made it about fifteen minutes after setting up the tent for the night before scrambling at each other without a single word.

 

“I don’t know why --” Gon choked out, spreading his legs, and he forced himself to look down, into Kalluto’s perceptive, observant eyes, “-- I want to fuck you so badly.”

 

Kalluto’s body shivered and he sucked harder, forcing out a groan from Gon above. He pulled back and slid his mouth down the side of Gon’s dick, panting. “Tell me,” Kalluto said. He flicked his eyes up and caught Gon staring, wide-eyed. He slid the flat of his tongue up Gon’s cock, and then mumbled, “How you want to fuck me.”

 

“I want to --” Gon sucked in a breath and reached down, finally, releasing the sleeping bag from where he had been white-knuckling it. He slid his hands into Kalluto’s hair, never pulling, letting the silky strands fall through his fingers. “I thought about it before now, a lot before now. I kept thinking about it, because -- fuck -- you’re so -- you’re so beautiful --”

 

Kalluto slid one hand down and into his own pants and gripped himself with a saliva-slick palm.

 

“I thought about putting it in you, but -- I want to -- use my mouth,” Gon continued, “I want to fuck you with my tongue, because you’re so small and you’d be so tight --” Gon’s eyes fell shut and his head dropped back as Kalluto slid his tongue into the slit of his cock. “God.”

 

Kalluto felt the stomach-dropping shiver that came with his orgasm already. He whined around Gon’s dick. “You’re going to make me come,” he said.

 

Gon panted and looked back down. “Just from talking?”

 

Kalluto nodded, hand tightening around himself, “Please.”

 

“I was thinking if I made you come that way, that I would push you over, then, and that I’d slide inside of you all at once, and that I would fuck you hard.”

 

Kalluto wished, hopelessly, that he could finger himself, too, but he needed his other hand to hold himself up and against Gon’s cock. He whined again, eyes wrenching shut, and he slid down Gon’s cock until it muffled his cries.

 

“Fuck, I bet you love being fucked hard. I bet you fucking love that --” Gon groaned. “God, you’re gonna make me come, Kalluto -- Kallu --”

 

Kalluto pulled back just as Gon came, swallowing what he could and letting the rest spill onto his mouth and face and knuckles. He gasped once, twice, and stroked himself to orgasm then with Gon's cum wet on his face. His entire body shuddered over and over again as he came into his pants.

 

He came to shortly after, laid out flat on his stomach, with Gon wiping his fingers clean on a damp t-shirt. Gon noticed that his eyes had opened again and said, “This isn’t what I brought clean water out here for.”

 

“You're right," Kalluto said, "We’ll die of dehydration.”

 

“Whatever. I think you just sucked the life out of me anyway,” Gon said, and the corner of his mouth ticked up. Kalluto barked out a laugh, unexpected, and they both jumped.

 

And then they both laughed. And laughed. And couldn’t stop. “Aha -- sorry --” Kalluto gasped out, “I’m not even sure why it’s so funny --” his eyes welled with tears from laughing so hard, and Gon was already there, laid out flat on his back next to him, holding his stomach.

 

Finally, they stopped, and they laid there catching their breath for a moment. Kalluto slowly pushed himself up to his elbows and looked down to Gon at his side. Gon raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

 

“Was that okay?”

 

“I’m not sure if you were present or not, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t come that hard in my life,” Gon said. He reached up and gave Kalluto a pat-pat on the arm. "Good job."

 

Kalluto pinched his lip between his teeth for a second and then said, “We shouldn’t have.”

 

Gon blinked. And then went slowly more red in his face. “I said some really embarrassing stuff.” He slid an arm over his face, voice muffled in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s never ever discuss this, okay. Change the subject.”

 

“Okay,” Kalluto said. “Has anyone else ever told you how gigantic your cock is?”

 

Gon jumped up to sitting. “That’s not a subject change!”

 

“Yes it is. It’s the first penis I’ve never been able to --” Kalluto motioned with his finger, into his mouth, and pointed down his throat.

 

“Stop!”

 

“And it’s different than mine.”

 

Gon still hadn’t seen Kalluto naked and the sudden insecurity was evident in the way he jerked back.

 

“I liked it," Kalluto comforted.

 

Gon pulled his knees up. “Um…" His ears had even grown red. “You’re probably circumcised.”

 

“What?” Kalluto sat down opposite of Gon, and pulled his knees up much the same way.

 

“That’s what’s different. I’m not circumcised.”

 

Kalluto blinked and glanced down at himself. “Spread your legs. I want to look again.”

 

“No!” Gon said, shifting back and away from Kalluto’s prying eyes. “No, seriously -- we shouldn’t -- I’m going to get dressed.” He scooted closer to where his pajama bottoms had been abandoned and slid them on one foot at a time without moving off the floor. “You were right that we shouldn’t have done that. We’ve got to think of Killua.”

 

“I don’t think Killua would appreciate his brother thinking about him while he sucked off a guy.”

 

“That’s not what I meant!” Gon cried, looking helpless.

 

“I was kidding,” Kalluto said, and he smiled. “I’m teasing you.”

 

“Kalluto, I’m serious,” Gon said, and it was evident all of his happy floating post-orgasm feelings had evaporated into his stress. “We can’t do this.”

 

“I know.” Kalluto glanced away. “I know. I’m sorry. We won’t do it again. I won’t do it again.”

 

Gon rubbed his face. The quiet of the forest in night filled their tent, then. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize. Let’s just sleep.” Kalluto said, and his lizard brain cried foul, but he beat it back with the truth: he had thirteen days left to find his freedom. To find Killua. 

 

Gon sighed and shifted back to his sleeping bag and crawled inside. “Right. We won’t do it again.”

 

“Right,” Kalluto agreed, “We won’t do it again.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Gon, please,” Kalluto cried, fingers grasping for purchase against the blankets on the tent floor. He felt Gon’s tongue press inside him and he gasped, body jerking up like he’d been shocked; but Gon’s hands were there and held him down by his thighs, so he couldn’t move. “Ah, ah --” Gon pulled out, slid down the space between Kalluto’s entrance and his scrotum, and back again, licking his way back inside. “Fuck!”

 

The first chirping of birds from dawn came from outside the tent, readying the pair for the day. They had been awake about twelve minutes before Kalluto was pushed down on his knees, ass in the air.

 

Gon ate him out like a man starved, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Kalluto’s thighs. He pulled back. “Sit on my face,” he said. Kalluto felt his stomach bottom out.

 

“What?” He said, turning to look over his shoulder.

 

Gon’s eyes were wide and a deep, intense honey. “Sit on my face.”

 

Kalluto nodded, fingers gone numb. Gon slid onto his back and pulled Kalluto onto him. Kalluto grabbed onto Gon’s abs, thighs spread on either side of his head, and cried out when Gon’s tongue penetrated him again. He didn’t wait at all to start fucking him with his tongue and Kalluto dropped forward with a scream, shifting his hips back to meet the slick wet press. “Gon,” he begged, “Gon, Gon, Gon --”

 

Gon’s clothed erection was inches from him. Kalluto opened his eyes and felt saliva pool in his mouth; he wanted to suck Gon’s cock more than he’d wanted anything in his life. He reached out and pulled it free of Gon’s cotton pajama bottoms, and licked the head. Gon groaned against his ass and Kalluto felt his cock go marble hard. He took in the scent of Gon’s erection, panting, and licked it again. Gon’s hands tightened on his thighs. It was going to bruise and Kalluto wanted more.

 

He slid his tongue against the slit of Gon’s dick and felt Gon do the same to his ass. Gripping Gon’s cock with one hand, he jerked it in rhythm with the tongue fucking he was getting, and for a moment, even just briefly, he knew what it would be like to have Gon fuck him.

 

Kalluto cried out. “Please,” he said, “Use -- fuck me with your fingers --”

 

Gon didn’t need to be asked twice, and he forced two fingers into Kalluto exactly the way he wanted it. Kalluto squirmed until Gon’s thrusting hit his prostate and then he gasped, repeatedly, “There. There. Fuck me there --”

 

It only took a few hard fucks before Kalluto was coming down the front of Gon’s chest, mouth wrapped around his cock once more. His vision whited out with the force of it; the overstimulation of everything. Gon shifted his hips up to meet Kalluto’s mouth again and again until he came, too, and he bit the inside of Kalluto’s thigh hard when he did.

 

Kalluto felt his whole body break out into goosebumps as he swallowed it all.

 

Eventually they both came down, panting. Kalluto slid over onto his back next to Gon and they stared, dazed, at the top of the tent.

 

“You were tight like I thought,” Gon mumbled.

 

Kalluto laughed. Gon laughed, too. When they looked at each other, they started laughing hysterically, again, to the point of tears.

  
And then they said, once more: “We won’t do that again.”


	6. On the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Killua continues.

Kalluto looked stunning in the snow. To be fair, he looked handsome in most settings, but there was something about _snow_ that suited him so perfectly. Pale white skin, jet black hair, and the fur trim of his coat surrounding his face like a glowing halo.

Gon did not look as well-suited. His nose was a vicious shade of red and beneath several layers of clothing, he still managed to shiver. He had never even seen snow growing up; there was a good chance he would never, ever get used to it.

Kalluto walked ahead a few yards and then glanced back and the afternoon sun gleamed off of him, striking Gon temporarily dumbstruck at the sight. “We’re almost there. I can see the village from here,” Kalluto called down the mountain.

“Alright,” Gon said, digging his snowshoes into the fluffy white powder and continuing on.

Not an hour later, they walked in through the gates of the village side-by-side, both just a bit out of breath. The trek up the mountain took the average traveller three days. They had made it in twelve hours.

Kalluto smiled up to Gon, who grinned in response. “Let’s get somewhere warm,” Gon said. “We’re going to have to stay somewhere here tonight anyway.” He shifted the backpack strapped to himself and listened for a space filled with people to guide him through the town. It was nearly dinner-time and there was a good chance a local inn would be serving a meal to the villagers.

As they walked through the mostly-paved streets, they got more than one or two odd stares. Tourists weren’t unheard of, as this quaint mountain village was home to some of the most beautiful vistas in the world, and boasted some fine cross-country skiing, but tourists that looked as good as Kalluto looked were definitely a rarity.

Gon had to stop looking.

“That must be the place,” Kalluto said, lifting a gloved hand and pointing down the block.

Gon blinked and then squinted, trying to figure out which structure Kalluto meant; there were several with different signs, but they were all written in Ruzzian. “Uh?”

Kalluto grabbed his hand and tugged him along, and Gon felt his face warming up despite the biting temperature. “Here,” Kalluto said, stopping in front of a large wooden door. “The sign says Inn and Ale.”

“You read Ruzzian?”

Kalluto glanced over his shoulder and up at Gon, big round eyes levelling him flat. “I _am_ Ruzzian.”

 

"I thought you were Japanese."

 

"Father is Ruzzian. Mother is Japanese. I'm half. I can read and speak both." There was a punctuated _duh_ at the end of the sentence.

With that, he pushed open the door and went inside. Gon remained frozen in place.

They were on day seven of their journey across the globe seeking Killua -- and they had managed to go twenty-four hours now without touching each other. Gon was bound and determined to keep it that way.

What would he tell Killua if they found him, after doing _all of that_ to Kalluto throughout the entire search mission?

_I’m glad I found you; you’re my best friend; sorry I fucked your brother._ Though, technically, they hadn’t gone that far. Mouths and hands were one thing -- Gon imagined trying to explain the technicality to Killua and then groaned, slapping a hand over his face.

The door to the inn swung open and Kalluto stood there, coat off, thick waves of his black hair cascading down his body framing every angle and curve that Gon shouldn’t be looking at. “They had a room. Come on.”

Gon walked in, dutifully, and gave a silent, _“I’m so sorry Killua,”_ apology into the universe.

* * *

 

Kalluto sucked on Gon’s cum-covered fingers and moaned, sound muffled by his hand. His hands gripped the pillow beneath his head from where he was laying on his back on the bed they were sharing at the inn. Gon pushed his other hand between Kalluto’s thighs and found his spit-slick entrance and gave no warning before pushing two fingers in.

Kalluto gasped, thighs tightening against Gon’s middle. And then they spread, body opening to the intrusion like he was made for it, and he sighed in pleasure against Gon’s other hand, eyes fluttering.

“You really like it, huh?”

Kalluto managed to look through the pleased fog of his consciousness into Gon’s face, which looked -- well, fascinated. Reverent. _Heated._ Kalluto nodded and spread his legs farther apart to emphasize the point. Gon moved his hand from Kalluto’s mouth and Kalluto said, voice quiet, “Touch me.”

Gon gripped his cock and squeezed and fucked him with his fingers at the same time. He leaned in for a sweaty, open-mouthed kiss and Kalluto felt his whole world white out with how big and warm and strong --

“Fuck me,” he panted against Gon’s mouth.

“I can’t,” Gon said.

“Please,” Kalluto asked -- nicely.

“Not now,” Gon grumbled, voice low, “Not like this.”

“But I want your cock in me,” Kalluto said, voice pleading and petulant simultaneously. He didn’t like hearing no. He didn’t have to hear it often. “I want you to come in me.”

Gon shifted away, suddenly, but before Kalluto could protest, he descended back down and wrapped his mouth around Kalluto’s cock instead -- at the same moment he pressed three fingers inside. He finger-fucked him in earnest, sucking hard on the length of Kalluto’s dick. Kalluto found himself gasping and torn between fucking down on the fingers inside or fucking up into Gon's hot wet mouth. He hadn't sucked Kalluto off before; the thrill of it made Kalluto dizzy.

He forgot what he had been whining for and found himself coming just seconds later, fingers ripping the seams of his pillow, back arching off the bed. “Gon --” His body tensed as he came in Gon's mouth.

His senses felt dulled. He was so warm and his bruised and bitten thighs were shaking, fingers slowly releasing the near-destroyed pillow covering as he drifted down into himself again.

Gon was resting next to him, soapy rag in his hands that he had grabbed from the basin in the room. He wiped his hands and let it drop to the floor with a wet plop.

After a few minutes of quiet, Gon said, “We still haven’t found Killua.”

Kalluto shifted, rolling onto his side, and moved closer so they touched. “There are some leads here. We’ll leave tomorrow. We still have six days.”

“Is anything going to change if we don’t find him?”

Kalluto’s face was a perfectly schooled mask of neutrality. Gon had no idea the plans Kalluto’s mother had for him and Kalluto was going to keep it that way. “Nothing. Except that I guess I’ll go back to doing Ryodan work and you’ll go back to -- what’s his name?”

“Leorio.”

Kalluto nodded and settled into the bed more, eyes fluttering. “Yeah. You’ll do your hunting.”

“Hm. Do you have a Hunter’s license?”

“No,” Kalluto said. “I haven’t needed one. Hisoka and Illuni help me with Hunter information if it’s ever required. It rarely is. The Ryodan doesn’t often look for specific targets to hunt…”

Gon rolled over too, and grabbed the blanket while doing so, pulling it over them both. “Some Spiders have the license, though.”

“I prefer asking Illuni for help over Shalnark,” Kalluto said, “Shalnark is really close to Danchou. Asking him for help is like asking Danchou for help.”

Gon made a face. “I don’t like him. Chrollo Lucilfer. He’s a dick.”

“I think he’s very wise but very cruel,” Kalluto admitted, “And very handsome.”

He shouldn’t have said that last part.

Gon’s eyebrows ticked up. “You haven’t --”

Kalluto met his stare evenly and didn’t reply.

He didn’t need to reply. Gon got it. “ _Ew._ He’s like fifty years old!”

“He’s thirty-two.” Kalluto couldn’t help the smile. “He’s not even the oldest man I’ve been with. You’ve never been with an older girl?”

Gon went cherry red almost immediately. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he blurted, “I’ve never known the age of anyone I've --”

Kalluto sat up, grinning. “Ha!”

“It’s not like -- I mean -- I would sleep with them more than once, like, if it ever worked out that way --”

“What about the girl back on Whale Island? You told me and Hisoka about her!”

Gon continued to blush, looking up at Kalluto. “I haven’t slept with her.”

“But you want to?”

Gon was quiet for a minute, eyes searching Kalluto for something. “Not now. Not anymore. I just want --” he said. “I don’t know.”

Kalluto went still. And then slowly caged Gon in with his arms. “Me?” he asked, softly. "You want me." His hair spilled over his shoulders, curtaining them both from the dimly lit room.

Gon hesitated before nodding, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Gon pulled him down into a slow kiss and Kalluto felt something in his chest absolutely _swell_.

* * *

 

From a sweltering jungle to a snow-capped village to the bustling urban city of Yotok, they were covering a great deal of ground quite quickly -- and coming up with nothing.

“His name is Killua,” Gon said to the staffer at the hostel that had been a potential lead in the city. “He has white hair naturally, but it could have been dyed -- blue eyes. His face looks kind of like his face --” Gon pointed at Kalluto standing behind him. “They’re brothers.”

The woman lounging in the chair near the entrance looked from Kalluto back to Gon. “Sorry, I really don’t know. You’re welcome to take a look around the hostel if you want.”

Gon deflated. “Thanks.”

They left the tall skinny brownstone-like structure and headed towards the city center. Kalluto typed away on his phone, hardly glancing up, instinct alone guiding him around other people walking on the sidewalk. His hair was pulled up into a high bun on his head, a few strands fallen loose around his face, and he was dressed with the kind of fashionable casual attire that Gon had already audibly complained about as being a staple among the Zoldyck boys. They loved their unnecessary belts and straps and jewelry.

_13:01 Feitan: If you bring him here, I will kill him._

_13:01 Kalluto: No you won’t._

_13:01 Feitan: I will._

_13:02 Kalluto: Please don’t._

_13:04 Feitan: …_

_13:05 Feitan: We’ll see._

_13:05 Kalluto: Thank you for helping me._

_13:05 Feitan: I’ll be waiting._

_13:06 Kalluto: We’re only fifteen minutes out. See you soon._

Gon looked completely harmless in his gray-washed jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt; like any other civilian. When he stopped at a street vendor to grab a few hot dogs and a soda, the woman manning the cart flirted with him shamelessly -- and why not? He was gorgeous and glowed gold like he was a fallen sundrop and not just some normal island kid.

“Here are your five dogs,” she said. “And a sixth one for free.”

“A free hot dog?” Gon said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“My treat,” she said, “I figured someone as fit as you needs all the calories he can get to stay so…” Her eyes darted down his front. “Buff?”

Gon was hardly listening and grinned over his shoulder to Kalluto. “Here, an extra one,” he said, handing it over. Kalluto looked over to the woman, whose face revealed her slow understanding and then the crushing embarrassment of her failure. Her face was red; she looked down, and then robotically greeted the next customer in line. Kalluto felt giddy with it.

“Thank you, Gon,” he said, voice honey-sweet. They walked away from the cart, Gon utterly oblivious to his own cruelty. “You’d be so good at my kind of callous work if you ever tried it,” Kalluto said. He took a bite of the hot dog.

Gon looked over, already on his second. “Hm?” He swallowed a bite. “What do you mean?” He had ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

Kalluto reached up and wiped it from him with his thumb, and then licked it off. Gon’s eyes watched the movement of his tongue with hawk-like focus. “Nothing,” Kalluto said. He looked out over the crowd of the park and spotted Feitan immediately in his all-black, seated on a bench. “Ah, our guide is here.”

Gon followed his eyeline and snorted. “Feitan. You realize he hates me, right?”

“Feitan hates everyone,” Kalluto mumbled.

“Feitan has very good hearing,” Feitan said, standing up. Kalluto and Gon walked up and he shot Gon the kind of murderous stare that Kalluto had seen him use many times on many different enemies.

“Hi,” Kalluto greeted, and leaned in to press a kiss on Feitan’s cheek. It was distracting enough, because he was looking at Kalluto now semi-exasperated.

“You smell like shitty street food.”

“I ate a hot dog,” Kalluto explained. Feitan’s face scrunched in distaste and Kalluto giggled. “Do you want to go?”

“Not with him, not really,” Feitan said, eyes darting back to Gon, who finished the last of his meal.

“Feeling’s mutual, buddy,” Gon grumbled, wiping his hands off on his jeans. Feitan followed the movement and grunted in disgust.

“I’d kill you where you stood,” he said.

Gon crossed his arms. “It’s been a long while since we last met. You sure you could?”

Kalluto stepped between the two of them. “Can we go? We’re on a time crunch, really. Five days left.”

Silently, Feitan started down a path in the park, and Gon and Kalluto followed.

* * *

 

Feitan’s home in Yotok was in the red light district in the most decrepit looking building on the block; windows were busted out on the first floor and some mysterious smoking substance was dusted along the first step. Kalluto made a face as he followed Feitan inside.

“This place is a mess,” he said.

They all three went up the stairs inside the front door and were greeted by another inconspicuous looking door. Feitan unlocked it, stepped inside, and they were greeted instead by a metal door. Feitan unlocked it to reveal an astonishingly updated and sophisticated looking two-story apartment.

“Just kidding,” Kalluto said breathlessly, walking inside. “Wow.”

“I grew up in garbage,” Feitan said, “I know how to make it home.”

“It’s nice,” Gon said, leaning over to look inside a fishbowl sitting on a chest by the front door.

“Don’t touch anything,” Feitan said, and started in towards the back. “We’ll start by re-checking the databases and then we’ll do a sweep of security footage using some tech Shalnark sent over. If your brother can be found, he will be.”

“Thanks, Feitan,” Kalluto said. “Really. I appreciate it.”

Feitan mumbled something inaudible and led them into his office. He shed his black duster and dropped it onto the back of his desk chair. There was only one other office chair available, so Kalluto pulled it over. He was about to sit, and Gon was standing behind him dutifully --

Instead, he grabbed Gon’s wrist, guided him to the chair, and pushed him to sitting. Kalluto then sat in his lap without saying a word.

Feitan said nothing, too.

Gon was needle-dropping quiet.

They got to work.

* * *

 

Feitan put them up for the night in separate spaces -- Kalluto in the guest room, Gon on the couch in the living area. They stood in the kitchen after cleaning up dinner late that night; they’d run in to early morning hours working and it was time to get at least a few hours of sleep.

“We don’t have t --” Kalluto started.

“Yes, you do. I would like to sleep,” he said, and his eyes pinned to Gon, “And I have very good hearing. So yeah, you do have to sleep in separate rooms.”

Gon was blushing; Kalluto rolled his eyes.

“Do your parents know what you’re doing?” Feitan asked.

“It’s none of their business who I sleep with,” Kalluto said.

“I mean searching for Killua. Danchou said you’re heir now, so I’m probably not wrong in assuming they don’t care about finding your brother anymore.”

Kalluto’s blood ran cold, but he refused to look up to gauge Gon’s reaction. He wouldn’t. “It’s none of their business who I search for, either,” he said, evenly.

“Whatever,” Feitan said, “I don’t really care. Go to sleep.” He turned around and stalked off, leaving Kalluto and Gon standing in the kitchen alone. A few minutes ticked by while Kalluto put away the last of the glasses into the cabinets above the sink.

Kalluto finally looked over and saw Gon staring at him with pointed intensity.

“You want to find Killua because your parents are making you take over as the Zoldyck heir?” He took a step forward.

Kalluto didn’t move and squared his shoulders. “I said I had my reasons.”

“You said I inspired you to look again.”

“That’s not a lie.”

“I didn’t know anything was on the line.” His eyes were intense and dark but Kalluto refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. “What exactly is at stake here?”

“In four days on my birthday I’m going to be under my mother’s thumb again,” Kalluto said. “I don’t know what it means, exactly, except that they want me to get married. I’ll have children.”

Gon glanced down Kalluto’s body and back up again. “But you’re gay.”

Kalluto had deja vu from his very similar reaction not two weeks earlier. “Yeah.”

Gon tilted his head. “You should have told me.”

“Why?”

“Because I always work better when there’s something important on the line.”

Kalluto wrinkled his nose. “Nothing is on the line. Nothing has changed. What is important on the line now?”

Gon grabbed Kalluto by the upper arms and said, “You are. _You're_ important.”

They went quiet, just staring.

Finally, Kalluto breathed out, “I would give anything to have you fuck me right now.”

“Absolutely not. Get the fuck out of my kitchen. Now,” Feitan said, holding an empty glass, wearing head to toe black silk pajamas, hair flat and damp from the shower. He walked into the kitchen and kicked the two of them apart. “Go to sleep.”

Kalluto swallowed hard and turned to retire to Feitan’s guest room. Gon moved away to his designated spot on the couch.

Feitan left shortly after, water glass filled up, socked feet padding on the floor as he retired to bed. "Fucking kids," he said.

* * *

 

It was Kalluto’s birthday and their mission was officially a failure. Gon was accompanying him back to the manor, just to see him off, and they sat side-by-side in the airship, staring out the window at the pinkish blue sunset.

Gon reached out and laced his fingers through Kalluto’s.

“I wish I could find him,” Kalluto said. “Not even for this,” he squeezed Gon’s hand, “But because I miss him too, you know.”

“Yeah,” Gon said.

He was so easy. Kalluto could manipulate him like a puppeteer with a marionette and yet he couldn’t do it anymore; couldn’t bring himself to _want_ something like that. And nevertheless, Gon held his hand.

This mission had been a mistake because now Kalluto wondered if maybe this was love and he’d have to spend the rest of his life without it. What he felt for Hisoka was nothing like this, which made it that much more confusing, ultimately. He wanted something _much more_ from Gon, now. And Gon gave it to him easily. Willingly.

He turned his head and leaned up to press a kiss to Gon’s lips. A chaste one. They still hadn’t fucked. That would probably never change, not now, not after returning to his new life of responsibility and marriage. “I wonder if I’ll be able to have affairs,” Kalluto mumbled. “I have a bad feeling about this.” His instincts were rarely wrong; but his instincts had failed him finding Killua, too, so maybe they missed things.

“It’s not like you’re going to be an actual prisoner,” Gon said. “They let Killua run around the planet with me for years. We fought the _Chimera Ants_. That’s definitely worse than --”

Kalluto looked away.

Gon made a sound of recognition. “It’s probably going to be worse for you _because_ of what Killua and I did while he was heir, huh?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kind of is,” Gon said, voice shrinking.

“Too bad you can’t take responsibility,” Kalluto joked, sinking in against Gon’s side.

Silence. And then: “I think I can.”

Kalluto looked up, brows raised.

“I can take responsibility. Don’t go back. Stay with me.”

Kalluto’s first reaction was to laugh. “ _What?_ ”

Gon sat up and turned in his seat to face Kalluto. “I mean it. Don’t go. Stay with me. I have the Zodiacs on my side. And you. We could keep you out of the Zoldyck family.” His brows were furrowed, serious, sincere. “Stay with me.”

“It’s only been two weeks,” Kalluto said, slowly, “You don’t know me. You can’t possibly --”

“I don’t care. _I want you._ Stay.”

Kalluto’s heart began to swell. He’d never felt anything quite like the hope he felt now. It almost hurt. “I can’t. I have to continue the Zoldyck -- _line_ \--”

“Killua figured this out. And you can too. You don’t have to go back. You don’t have to do that.” Gon reached out and cupped Kalluto’s face, thumb stroking his cheek. “You can stay with me.”

His aura was so intense. So warm. It was hard to look at him. He was so bright. “Can I?” Kalluto heard himself ask, voice small.

“Yes.”

Kalluto chewed his bottom lip. “Okay.” And then he quickly added, “I’m still going home.”

“But --”

Kalluto sat up straight and reached up to pull his hair into a braid at the side of his head. “No. I have to go home. I’m going to do something I’ve never done in my life. I’m going to say _no_ to my mother. And then I will leave.”

“Really?" Gon said, and the hope in his voice was so cute that Kalluto couldn’t help but to grin.

“Really.”

* * *

 

Kalluto walked in through the front doors of the manor humming to himself. He felt lighter. At peace. Dee followed behind him, carrying his things. They had left Gon at the airport.

Only twenty minutes apart before Kalluto’s pocket buzzed with a new text.

_20:22 Gon: Just got your ticket confirmation. I’ll pick you up in Yorkshin tomorrow at 2pm._

_20:22 Kalluto: See you then._

Smiling, Kalluto pulled up a new text to Illumi.

_20:23 Kalluto: I have news._

_20:23 Illumi: What is it? Are you alright?_

_20:23 Kalluto: I’m fine. Can I see you tomorrow?_

_20:24 Illumi: I will be free for you._

_20:24 Kalluto: [typing...]_

He started to reply, “I will be in Yorkshin tomorrow afternoon,” but was abruptly stopped at the top of the staircase by his mother and her giant sweeping skirts -- and never submitted the message. “Hello, mother,” he said, pocketing his phone hastily.

“Happy birthday, my sweet baby,” she said, leaning in and kissing his cheeks. “There’s a whole meal prepared in the dining room for you! Oh! And the presents!”

Kalluto smiled brightly. “Okay. Let me put my stuff away,” he motioned to Dee holding his bags. “I’ll be down.”

Kikyo nodded and swept by him, going down the staircase. Dee pressed up against the banister to stay out of her way as she went and was still crushed by her skirts as she passed. Once free, he and Kalluto returned to Kalluto’s room.

“You seem happy,” Dee said.

“It was a good trip. Exactly what I needed,” Kalluto said. Dee unzipped a bag to unpack. “No, leave it. In fact -- get the big piece of luggage from my closet, please. Start loading this wardrobe into it. I’d like to have everything in there.” He swung open the wardrobe doors and pulled out a yukata to wear. It’d be a little funny to give his mom the middle finger while wearing an outfit she herself designed for him.

He got undressed, paying no mind to Dee or Dee’s ashen face at all, and slid into the fresh outfit. He took his hair down from the braid and let it fall down his back straight and loose. “I’m going to join mother at dinner. Please have the bags lined up by the front door when I’m done,” he said.

“Master Kalluto --” Dee started, and then stopped himself.

Kalluto looked at him, one brow raised. “Yes?”

Dee looked back down at the luggage and cleared his throat.

“Quickly, now. That wardrobe is fairly full,” Kalluto said, turning on his heel and heading back downstairs to dinner.

He turned the corner at the staircase before the formal dining room and blinked at how brightly the space was lit with the chandelier and dozens of candles. The table was utterly filled with food -- cakes, cookies, an entire roast pig, pasta, cheeses, breads -- the whole gamut.

The only person at the table was his mother. “Just us?” Kalluto asked.

“Yes, dear. Sit!”

Kalluto nodded. He smiled and took the seat next to Kikyo and stuck his finger into the icing of the cake before him. He brought it to his mouth and sighed happily. “I love chocolate.”

“I know, dear. You are my baby, after all,” she said.

Kalluto nodded. “I’m glad you’re here. I have to tell you something.” He looked to his mom, with her black hair pulled into a taut bun streaked with gray, eyes shielded by a visor.

“Something? Is this _something_ why you are in such good spirits, sweetling?”

“Yes. I’ve --” he steeled himself and exhaled. “I’ve decided I’m not going to be your heir.”

Kikyo’s mouth closed into a long thin line, but she said nothing.

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“That’s not possible,” Kikyo said.

“I’d apologize,” Kalluto said, voice airy, “But I’m not actually sorry.”

“You forget yourself,” Kikyo said, and her voice was full of sadness. She leaned in closer and reached up to place a hand on Kalluto’s cheek. Her fingers were quite cold. “But mostly, you forget me.”

Her fingers tightened, suddenly, and she slapped with supernatural speed across Kalluto’s face -- hard enough to send him spiraling out of the chair.

“Don’t you remember my powers, sweetling? It’s been a terribly long time since I’ve used them, I know.”

Kalluto pressed hand to his hot reddened cheek and looked up at his mom, eyes wide. He had a sudden and intense flashback to when Killua left the family the first time, when he was only twelve. He hadn’t been allowed to walk out.

He had to stab Kikyo, _kill her_ nearly, to escape.

How foolish Kalluto felt. He thought he could just _leave_.

Kikyo was on him in a second, one icy hand holding his wrist against the expensive oriental rug beneath the table, the other pinned against his throat. He was much, much stronger than she was, and he even had a hand free.

He had a knife in his hand instantly, instinctively, slid down from where it had been attached to the inside of his sleeve. He had to stab her to go free.

Kalluto stared up into the blankness of Kikyo’s visor, eyes round, heart hammering in this throat, beneath Kikyo’s vice-like hand. _He couldn’t stab her._ He couldn’t stab his _mother_ \-- he _couldn’t_ \--

And then the window of opportunity was gone. The window that Killua had taken, the window that Killua had used to get free. It was shut, permanently, because Kikyo was now in Kalluto’s mind.

He _had_ forgotten his mother’s power.

She trapped victims in their minds. Rendered them zombies of her will, just like that.

Kalluto fought it when he realized the cage was coming down around him in his psyche. He was stronger than she was as a manipulator nen type -- he _could_ get free. He fought it, punching at the walls that were coming down around him, but Kikyo’s strength of will was iron.

“No,” he said, weakly, the sound a gust of breath out his lips.

And then her hold had taken him completely. Kikyo stood up and straightened her skirts and left Kalluto lying there, paralyzed until she said, “Stand.”

He did. From inside his own mind, Kalluto felt his body act while he begged _no_.

Dee appeared at his side.

“Here’s our heir,” Kikyo said, sweetly. “I fear I might have bruised his cheekbone with that little tap. Take care of him, will you, Dee?”

“Certainly, madam,” Dee said. He walked into Kalluto’s line of vision while Kikyo left the room. He reached up and gently brushed Kalluto’s hair from his face. “Don’t worry, Master Kalluto. Kikyo knows about us, darling. This arrangement will be -- perfect. I promise. You’ll have your wife and your responsibilities when your mother is around, but when we’re alone, it’ll only be me.”

He leaned in and kissed Kalluto’s relaxed mouth. He then reached down and scooped Kalluto up into a bride’s hold, an arm beneath his knees and another beneath his shoulders.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said, starting up the stairs towards his room.

 **  
** Kalluto's body felt numb; but his mind was white hot and screaming: _no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaahahahahaha get rekt kalluto
> 
> (find me at http://smokesinatra.tumblr.com)


	7. Manipulators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT ENDS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter features nonconsensual touching and kisses. If you would like to forgo this part, please skip instead to the scene that begins with, "Illumi straddled Hisoka’s lap, cup of coffee in hand."
> 
> Thank you.

The one thing he didn’t expect was how painful, physically painful, it really felt. Kalluto, trapped in his mind, felt the agony of every involuntary movement. It was like walking through glass when he was asked to walk. It was like screaming into a burning cloud of ash when he was told to speak.

 

“Tell your father how happy you are to be here,” Kikyo said.

 

“I am happy to be here,” Kalluto said, staring up at Silva. It was like a white hot poker had been shoved in between his lips. Silva stared at the bruise across his cheek. His eye was still bloodshot, days later, and the purple-yellow speckled bruise covered his cheek from temple to beneath his eye. It healed more slowly without his access to nen.

 

Silva looked at his wife, mouth downturned. “Kikyo…”

 

“Don’t start, Silva,” she barked. “We have a lot to discuss. Go back to your room, Kalluto. Let Dee take care of you. Be nice to him, now.”

 

Ultimately the pain was nothing -- he could survive torture and had survived torture much worse than the pushy needs of his mother. But the revulsion of having someone touch him, talk to him, kiss him -- without the strength or will to say no --

 

It was agony enough that every step he took closer to his room felt like dying. Inside his own mind, he was begging himself to stop. Don’t go back to him. Don’t go back to him. _Don’t go back to him._

 

He pushed open the door to his room and Dee was there; he’d moved in. A new wardrobe stood next to Kalluto’s and it was filled with Dee’s butler uniforms.

 

“Take care of me,” Kalluto said, as he walked inside, and the door swung shut behind him.

 

“Always, precious,” Dee cooed, hopping up from the chair he had pulled into Kalluto’s room. Dee apparently greatly liked reading. Especially biographies of warriors and heroes. He’d read a few chapters to Kalluto last night while Kalluto laid motionless in bed, staring helplessly at the ceiling above.

 

Dee swooped in and pressed a kiss to Kalluto’s unresponsive lips. And then another. And then one more.

 

Kalluto screamed inside.

 

“My life is a dream,” Dee said. He took Kalluto’s hand and guided him over to the chair. Dee sat down and then patted his own lap, beaming. “Sit.”

_Be nice to him,_ Kikyo had said.

 

Kalluto sank into Dee’s lap. “Your mom and I were discussing your hair earlier this morning,” Dee said. “It’s quite long. Nearly at your thighs now, isn’t it? I think we agreed to cut it to your chin later today, when we have the time to invite a hairdresser over. Of course, she suggested Illumi -- he’s good at hair, isn’t he? But I thought that might be a terrible idea. Illumi likes long hair. He would probably argue. He would probably fight.”

 

Kalluto wanted to slice Dee’s throat with a dull knife. Jam it into his esophagus slow but hard, and feel the hot wet blood of his body sink in around his fingers. He wanted to cut and cut and cut until his head fell off and his body spasmed and Kalluto would lick the pain from his own fingers. He would feel much better then.

 

“When I pointed that out, your mother started to really think. Hisoka is a terrible influence on the family, isn’t he?”

 

Kalluto felt his stomach bottom out.

 

“Nothing’s decided yet, but it would probably be best to have Illumi in the same position as you, huh? I’d happily dote on you both.”

 

Dee began to stroke Kalluto’s cheek.

 

“Truth be told, I never liked Illumi much. I know, I know, you’re shocked. I favor you, my _husband_ ,” Dee snorted, “But he always seemed a bit unhinged, didn’t he?”

 

Some kind of fucked up joke, wasn’t it?

 

“And what of Gon, I asked her, too. It’s been three days and the incessant noise of your phone -- we destroyed it this morning, too. Taken care of for now. But if he were to ever show up… Because of his particular connections, it’d be a good idea to slice him up into small pieces and feed him to the dogs, huh? Evidence of his murder would turn more than a few heads.”

 

Dee’s hands stroked down Kalluto’s body, tracing the line of his neck, collarbone, the flat planes of his stomach beneath the kimono he wore. He stopped short of Kalluto’s crotch. Inside, Kalluto was trembling.

 

“It’s been a few days, hasn’t it, since you’ve gotten off? Not since… Gon? Do you need me to help?” He leaned in and inhaled the scent of Kalluto at his temple.

 

Beyond the pain, beyond the revulsion -- Kalluto had never, ever known fear. Not like this.

_Don’t touch me,_ he said. _Don’t touch me,_ he screamed. _Don’t. Don’t fucking touch me_ \-- And the fear made him beg: _please. Please don’t touch me._

 

“It’s hard on me too. I know you hardly go two days without sex, but I’m much the same. It’s another reason we’re so good together, my love.” Dee rolled his hips up and Kalluto felt the hardness beneath him.

 

He slammed his fists against the walls in his mind. _Don’t touch me. Don’t let him touch you; kill him; you can kill him; you’re stronger than he is; don’t let him do this._ He screamed and screamed and clawed at the walls inside himself until he felt raw and weak. He sobbed inside.

 

Dee exhaled. “Soon your mother will give you some more free will. Then we’ll take care of it,” he said. “I can wait. I waited years for this as it is. So long. What’s a little while longer? I have the memories of our first time together anyhow. You remember that?” Dee rolled his hips again and grunted, shivering. “It was the best sex of my life.”

 

Kalluto was losing his mind to the fear. The raw helpless feeling of it, of pleading for something that would never let go. Fright had been trained out of all the Zoldyck children at a very young age. And here he was, facing it, helpless. Incapable of coping.

 

Obviously he much preferred the torture of his mother over the torture of the man who pressed a sloppy moaning kiss to his unmoving mouth.

 

“I love you, darling. Let me read to you some more.”

 

Inside his mind, he curled up, sobbing, tears overwhelming the dark nothingness Kikyo had trapped him in.

 

* * *

 

Illumi straddled Hisoka’s lap, cup of coffee in hand. He took a sip of it and then looked back to Hisoka’s face.

 

“May I help you with something, dear Illumi?” Hisoka asked. “You’re blocking my view.” He pointed towards the television in their living room currently broadcasting the news.

 

“I am now your view.”

 

“Mm… I suppose it could be worse,” he said, settling his hands on Illumi’s ass. He smirked.

 

“Let me finish my coffee first,” Illumi said, sounding exasperated.

 

“You’re the one that sat on me,” Hisoka pointed out, eyebrows lifted.

 

Illumi replied by taking a long sip from his mug.

 

A loud knock came from their door.

 

Not their front door -- the _patio_ door. From their patio _thirty-five stories high_. They both looked over and saw Gon Freeccss standing on the other side of the glass.

 

Both Hisoka and Illumi didn’t move for some time, staring in surprise at the unexpected visitor.

 

Slowly Illumi put his mug down on the table beside the couch and stood up. Hisoka stood, too, and was the one to walk over and open the door.

 

“Hello, Gon,” he greeted. “You could have used the front door.”

 

“Your doorman wouldn’t let me up. He said he had orders not to.”

 

Hisoka shot a look over his shoulder at Illumi, who gave Hisoka a wide-eyed, feigned innocent stare. “I will leave you two to talk.”

 

“No, Illumi --” Gon pushed by Hisoka and walked into the apartment, “I have to talk to you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“It’s Kalluto --” Gon pinned Illumi with an intense, angry, frightened, blood-chilling glare. “Something’s wrong.”

 

Illumi looked to Hisoka, who closed the patio door and just shrugged. “Kalluto is fine. I received a text message this morning. He has a new number.”

 

“What?” Gon fished his phone out of his pants pocket, “Since when?”

 

“Apparently his phone broke several days ago.” Illumi felt something pleasing warm up his insides. He quite enjoyed seeing Kalluto break hearts. Especially the hearts of _bad influences_ like Gon. “I suppose he did not care for you to have the new number?”

 

“It’s not that,” Gon said, brushing off Illumi’s attempts to stab any insecurities, “He was supposed to arrive in Yorkshin three days ago and never showed.”

 

“His phone broke. He chose not to tell you,” Illumi said. “This is no reason to break into my home.”

 

“I knocked!” Gon said.

 

“He did knock,” Hisoka agreed, walking over and crossing his arms. Illumi shot him a chilly stare.

 

“He was going to tell your mother no, that he didn’t want to be heir. Then he was going to leave. He was going to meet me in Yorkshin the next day,” Gon said.

 

“Why would he meet you? _I_ am his brother. _I_ would meet him.”

 

Gon’s face went just a bit pink. “I’d storm the Zoldyck manor myself. I will. If you won’t help.”

 

Illumi wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to help you.”

 

“Then help him. If something was happening to Kalluto, wouldn’t you do something? Even if it’s your own mother doing it to him? He could be hurt.”

 

“I will look into the matter.”

 

“Please --”

 

“I will keep you informed,” Illumi replied icily.

 

“If you don’t do something, I’m going to Chrollo,” Gon said.

 

Illumi’s jaw tightened. “I said I will keep you informed.”

 

The two of them glared at each other, tension racketing up and up.

 

Hisoka broke the silence with a yawn. “I’m going to make waffles. Would you like one, Gon?” He walked towards the kitchen, scratching the back of his head where the shaved sides of hair met the relaxed golden blond mohawk.

 

“I’m going to go,” Gon said, finally.

 

“You can take the front door this time,” Illumi said. “Keep your phone on.”

 

Gon nodded once and then left. Illumi fished his phone from his pocket and shot off a message to Kalluto immediately.

 

_08:27 Illumi: Are you alright?_

_08:28 Kalluto: I’m fine. Why do you ask?_

_08:28 Illumi: I did not wish you a happy birthday. I apologize._

_08:28 Kalluto: It’s alright. Mother got me plenty of gifts._

 

Illumi stared down at the messages for some time. Long enough that Hisoka finished cooking and had to guide him into the kitchen to eat -- which he didn’t. Staring instead for a clue in what was written. _Mother got me plenty of gifts._ It was so unlike him to say; Illumi’s world narrowed to that one tiny phrase as he put the pieces together carefully.

 

_08:39 Illumi: Are you doing any work with the Ryodan soon?_

_08:40 Kalluto: No._

_08:40 Illumi: Why not?_

_08:41 Kalluto: I haven’t been assigned anything._

_08:41 Illumi: Does Chrollo know your new number?_

_08:41 Kalluto: Of course. He’s my boss._

 

Illumi immediately clicked over to contacts and pressed Chrollo’s name. It rang four times before it was picked up.

 

“Hello Illumi,” Chrollo greeted.

 

“Good morning,” Illumi replied. “Are you aware that Kalluto has a new phone number?”

 

“I’m sorry?” Chrollo said.

 

“Kalluto has a new phone number,” Illumi said patiently. “Has he told you yet?”

 

“Hm, no,” he said. “What happened?”

 

“His phone broke. I must go.”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“No,” Illumi lied. “I will send you his number. He’s forgetful.”

 

“Thanks,” Chrollo said.

 

Illumi hung up and stood up out of the barstool he had been seated in, eyes still glued to his phone. He fished out Kalluto’s new number and shot it off to Chrollo in a message, while heading towards his bedroom.

 

“Illu?” Hisoka followed behind him. “What is it?”

 

Illumi stopped and looked at Hisoka over his shoulder and tried to quiet the rapid beating of his heart. “I suspect someone has taken Kalluto’s phone.” And then the words came out like poison: “Gon may be right.”

 

* * *

 

Hisoka stroked his fingers through Illumi’s hair as they sat side by side on the airship to the manor. He let the black strands filter through his hands, watching it cascade.

 

“If Gon is wrong and Kalluto is alright, what will you do?”

 

Illumi looked over. “What do you mean?”

 

“Sweet Kalluto doesn’t want to be heir. Will you leave him there?” Hisoka met Illumi’s round black eyes.

 

“You are suggesting that I do otherwise.”

 

“Not suggesting,” Hisoka brought the hair to his mouth and placed a kiss at the end of the strands. “Questioning.”

 

“I do not know.”

 

“Oh?” He smirked into the hair pressed against his lips. “That’s rare.”

 

“The family is the most important,” Illumi said. He looked out the window of the ship, at a passing cloud. “Kalluto is the most important. It is unusual for those things to be at odds. I am not sure what to do.”

 

“Are you asking me what you should do?” Hisoka asked.

 

Illumi looked back over and gave him a flat look. “No.”

 

Hisoka smiled. “Didn’t think so.”

 

They fell quiet and Hisoka let the hair slip out from his hand. Eventually, as they neared their destination, Illumi said, “I believe he could go with us.”

 

“Hm?” Hisoka lifted his head from where he was half-asleep propped up against his arm.

 

“If Kalluto does not want to be there. If he does not want to be heir. He can return to Yorkshin with me.”

 

“Your parents wouldn’t like that so much,” Hisoka said.

 

“Kalluto is the most important. He cannot be compromised.”

 

“Yes, I know,” Hisoka said. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Illumi’s mouth. “I love him too.”

 

* * *

 

“I do not need permission to enter my own home,” Illumi said at the front door of the manor, currently blocked by a small army of butlers.

 

Hisoka had seen the cavalry and managed to slip out undetected before the car pulled into the circle drive; Illumi was sure he was already inside, having entered from the back.

 

“I will kill you all,” Illumi said, eyes widening. It wasn’t a threat as much as a prediction.

 

The butlers -- various ages, all of them, clad in their standard black suits, held strong. “Master Illumi, please,” an older woman said. “You can go in, but --”

 

“What is this?” Kikyo’s shrill voice cut through the crowd. The butlers parted immediately. “Ridiculous! Illumi, come in. Come in.”

 

The butlers looked from one another anxiously and stepped aside while Illumi walked in. “What is happening?”

 

“Heavens, I don’t know. They’re such a weird bunch, those butlers, hm?” She grabbed Illumi’s arm and guided him to the sitting room near the front of the house. It was dimly lit with candles.

 

Kalluto was seated in one corner on a plush red velvet couch, hair cut to his chin in a sharp bob like he wore as a child. The kimono he wore was a deep purple with pink accents -- a mirror of who he was long ago. “Hello, Illuni,” Kalluto greeted.

 

Illumi stared.

 

“It’s the hair, hm?” Kikyo said. “He insisted earlier today to cut it off.”

 

“I insisted,” Kalluto agreed. “I’m taking on my responsibility. My hair was impractical.”

 

“Indeed,” Illumi agreed.

 

“Sit, Illumi, my oldest.” Kikyo patted his cheek and moved to sit next to Kalluto, her pink bustling skirt matching Kalluto’s outfit nearly perfectly.

 

Illumi sat across from them and continued to look at Kalluto closely; blankly.

 

“What made you drop by so suddenly?” Kikyo asked. “You didn’t call.”

 

“I realized I never wished Kalluto a happy birthday.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I assumed there would be cake.”

 

Kikyo tilted her head.

 

“I would like some cake, please,” Illumi requested.

 

“Of course, darling. Amina!” Kikyo shrieked out. “Amina, get Illumi cake! Cake!”

 

Amina, a young girl butler that had been present at the front, appeared in the doorway of the parlor and bowed. “Yes, madam, at once.” She turned around and padded away to the kitchen. She had been trembling.

 

They fell silent. A quiet tick-tick-tick of a clock filled the room. The lighting was low, but Kalluto seemed mostly whole. His hands were folded in his lap. His hair was perfect. But Illumi couldn’t see his eyes, not so perfectly. He leaned in, closer.

 

“Is all well?” Illumi asked.

 

Kalluto didn’t answer, immediately, and Kikyo shot him a startled glance. In the silence, a single tear fell from his eye.

 

It streaked through the make-up covering the bruise on his cheek. “I’m well, Illuni,” he lied.

 

Illumi’s world was a tear. A single tear. Everything narrowed there, to the purple bruise revealed beneath it, to the blown out pupils he could barely see in the dark space, to the water filling Kalluto’s eyes.

 

 _His brother was fighting the hardest he ever had_ and Illumi nearly missed it.

 

Kikyo saw it all too and moved fast. She stood up and slammed a knife across the coffee table into Illumi’s shoulder and it hit with a thick and audible thwack, causing him nearly to lose his footing. Had Illumi been a second later in standing, the knife would have been buried between his eyes instead.

 

“You have _hurt him_ ,” Illumi said, voice slowly roaring to life.

 

“No,” Kikyo said, “Illumi, you will stop. I’m doing this for the good of us, for the family. Even for him. Sit down!”

 

“You’ve hurt Kalluto,” he hissed, voice slurring with rage.

 

Kikyo dove at him. If she could get her hands on him, skin on skin, she would have him like she had Kalluto --

 

Illumi let her dive at him and at the same moment, removed the knife from his shoulder. She landed on him and Illumi and cut her straight across the throat. She released a gargled gasp and then fumbled backwards, hands reaching up to her neck.

 

Illumi buried the knife into her temple, then, and she fell dead at his feet. It hadn’t been a fight at all; Illumi was faster. Stronger.

 

Colder.

 

His mind caught up with the frighteningly honed power of his body and he realized what he had done after it was done. He had killed his mother.

 

 _Maybe, not so cold._ Illumi pressed a hand to his mouth in shock.

 

The decapitated and still-bloody head of one of the butlers rolled into the sitting room and stopped at Kikyo’s feet. Illumi couldn’t look away from the unmoving body of his mother. The doorway darkened with a silhouette, bit Illumi still couldn’t look away. The pool of blood beneath her grew. And grew.

 

A hand covered Illumi’s and pulled it away from his mouth. Hisoka’s voice was warm beside him, but somehow sounded miles away. “I found that butler in Kalluto’s room. He was quite unstable, I think. He said they were married. Illumi?” A pause. “It’s okay, love.”

 

Hisoka came into Illumi’s vision and pressed a kiss to his nose.

 

“You’re so handsome when you’re upset.”

 

Illumi’s eyes pulled focus, finally, and he was able to see the yellow of Hisoka’s irises and it made him feel grounded again. “She tried to kill me.”

 

“Well, that was quite a mistake, wasn’t it?”

 

Illumi smudged a hand through the blood spray that had coated his cheek. “I’m much stronger than she was.”

 

And then Kalluto began to gasp. He gasped like a fish without water and fell from the couch he had been seated on.

 

“Oh. He can’t breathe.” Hisoka’s voice was light; like he was watching a bug twitch on the carpet.

 

“Mom -- mother had him -- caged --” Illumi’s eyes darted over Kalluto’s limp form, listening to him attempt to breathe. Illumi kneeled quickly. “His body can’t -- his lungs can’t breathe without her will.”

 

A needle appeared between his fingers, conjured from inside his sleeve. It glowed with aura and his eyes went nearly solid black with the force of nen he stored into it. He pushed Kalluto’s face straight forward and then shoved the needle into his forehead without hesitation at all. His lips were growing blue, eyes dimming.

 

He gasped for air and again and nothing changed. Illumi kept his finger pressed against the needle in his head.

 

It would work. Needles could pick any lock.

 

His entire body pulsed with aura when the walls in Kalluto’s psyche fell. He took a long deep breath, suddenly, and then coughed. And coughed. He could breathe again.

 

Illumi reached out to help him sit upright and Kalluto flinched and shrank away from his touch like burned.

 

“Don --” Kalluto gasped, “Don’t touch me --”

 

Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. Hisoka reached for him and Kalluto’s reaction was the same. He shrank from the outstretched hand.

 

“Please, please don’t touch me, I’m begging --”

 

Illumi shot Hisoka a confused look, but Hisoka was staring hard at Kalluto instead. There was recognition -- resignation -- there. “Unfortunate,” Hisoka said. “I would have killed him more slowly.” Illumi didn’t understand what he meant, but didn’t have much of a chance to dwell on it.

 

Kalluto’s hands scrambled up to his hair and he sobbed, gripping the newly short strands between his fingers. He balled into himself and cried and Illumi didn’t know what to do. “Please don’t touch me,” Kalluto said again, voice weak.

 

Hisoka stood up, grabbed the throw blanket from the couch, and dropped it around Kalluto’s shoulders. Kalluto grabbed it and pulled it tightly around himself, sniffling.

 

“What have you done?” Silva’s low tenor sounded from the doorway. His voice was thick with shock and his eyes were trained on the corpse of his wife.

 

Hisoka didn’t miss a beat. “I saved your child,” he said. “Child _ren_ , actually…” He stood between Illumi and his father, aura pulsing out of him with unfathomable force. “Would you like to fight?”

 

“You killed my wife,” Silva said. Lightning crackled between his knuckles and his eyes went electric blue.

 

Illumi’s eyes darted between Hisoka and his father, dumbfounded. He couldn’t process it quick enough; he didn’t know what to do.

 

“I’ll kill you too,” Hisoka said. “It’d be my pleasure.”

 

The electrified air around Silva made the lights in the house, all of them, dim and then grow overbright, and his hair stood on end, wrapping him in a halo of white. “Why did you do this?” He looked instead to Illumi. “Why did you let this happen?”

 

The entire wing of the house rattled back and forth with the two auras.

 

Suddenly, silence. Silva’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the ground.

 

Zeno stood in his place, hand outstretched from where he’d knocked Silva’s brain against his skull, and sighed deeply. “I’m gone for a month, and this.” He shot Hisoka a glare.

 

Illumi could practically feel Hisoka’s petulant frown. His aura died down and he sighed. “I was looking forward to a fight.”

 

“I’m not letting you kill my son while he’s beside himself with grief,” Zeno said. He looked over to Illumi and then Kalluto and back again.

 

Kalluto was covered with a blanket and huddled in on himself, face bruised; likely a fractured cheekbone, and his hair was gone. Kikyo laid dead on the floor beneath a pool of her blood, knife still dug deep into the soft tissue of her temple. And Dee, the head of Kalluto’s guards, was decapitated at her feet.

 

The only one present not covered in blood was Silva, laid out unconscious in the doorway.

 

Zeno sighed deeply.

 

* * *

 

_23:14 Illumi: I found Kalluto. He is fine now._

_23:15 Illumi: You were right._

_23:15 Illumi: You can come to the manor if you wish to see him._

_23:16 Gon: I’ll fly private and be there soon. A few hours._

 

Illumi didn’t reply back. He looked up and watched Kalluto sleep in Illumi’s old bed, still huddled tight. Hisoka was sitting at the end of the bed, unmoving.

 

Kalluto asked him not to leave.

 

So there he sat.

 

“Do you think he was touched inappropriately in that state? That is why he is -- like this.” Illumi asked, eyes sliding up and down Kalluto’s tense form.

 

“It would appear so,” Hisoka said, looking over his shoulder and down at him. “The butler meant to watch him was quite infatuated. Kalluto has that effect on people, I think.”

 

“It’s not Kalluto’s fault,” Illumi snapped.

 

“Certainly not. He was as vulnerable as a pig brought to slaughter. He could have been killed.”

 

“Dee just touched him instead,” Illumi said, and there was a sudden roaring in his ears. White hot anger blinded Illumi momentarily; he couldn’t see beyond the thirst for blood.

 

Hisoka quirked one corner of his mouth, watching him. “Did you tell Gon?”

 

“You are unwise to bring him into the conversation,” Illumi said.

 

“Yes, I know. You’re still upset about my arrangement.”

 

“You sank a ship, risking Kalluto’s life, to get him and Gon alone together. On an empty storm-ridden island. I could kill you with a clean conscience,” Illumi hissed.

 

“But they are so sweet, aren’t they? Such an interesting pair. So dark and so light.” Hisoka said. “I bet they’re beautiful when they --”

 

“I could kill you,” Illumi said.

 

Hisoka smirked. 

 

Kalluto rolled over in his bed and sank in, sighing, still asleep. Fitfully, but asleep. Hisoka and Illumi fell quiet, watching him instead.

 

* * *

 

 

Gon burst through Illumi’s bedroom door about four hours later, panting from where he had run up the stairs. Hell, he had probably ran up the mountain, too. Kalluto sat up in bed, already half awake.

 

Gon went to pull him into a hug and was stopped by Hisoka’s hand on his chest just short of reaching Kalluto. Kalluto shrunk back from his approach, wincing.

 

Confused, Gon looked from Hisoka to Kalluto. “Kalluto.”

 

He shifted to the edge of the bed and stood up. “I’m sorry.”

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Our mother had turned him into a slave incapable of acting on his own and meanwhile turned him over to the protection of a man who took advantage of him in his weakened state,” Illumi said.

 

Gon looked genuinely confused. And then angry. “What does that mean? Took advantage?” Gon reached out and Kalluto hated himself for wincing, again.

 

Kalluto felt his face grow hot. “I’m okay,” he said.

 

“Where is he?” Gon asked, looking from Kalluto Illumi. He took an aggressive step forward, a sudden punctuation of aura filling the room. “Where’s the man? Where is he?”

 

“Hisoka removed his head from his body. I suspect he is burning in the broiler downstairs,” Illumi said.

 

Gon seemed undeterred. “Where is your mother?”

 

Illumi and Hisoka met eyes. “I stabbed her to death, too,” Hisoka said. “I was feeling a little, hm, murderous.”

 

“I let this happen again,” Gon said, turning to Kalluto. “This happened to Killua. And I let it happen to you.”

 

Kalluto snorted and slowly sat back down on his bed, clutching the throw blanket around himself. “ _I_ let it happen. I could have left. I could have gotten away.” His voice grew small. “ _I didn’t want to hurt her_.”

 

Gon slowly approached and then kneeled at his feet. He looked up and met Kalluto’s eyes. “She was fucked up.”

 

For the first time in days, Kalluto laughed.

 

Gon gave a half-smile back; anger still evident in every move he made. He had bloodlust like any of them. He wouldn’t be satisfied until something died beneath his fist. Kalluto hesitated and then held a single hand out.

 

Gon took it easily.

 

Illumi hissed but Hisoka grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch him,” Illumi said.

 

Kalluto looked over to his brother and the corner of his mouth quirked. “It’s okay.”

 

“It is not okay,” Illumi said.

 

“It is so,” Kalluto argued.

 

“Hmm. We should leave them to be alone,” Hisoka said.

 

“No,” Illumi said stubbornly.

 

Hisoka swept Illumi’s hair to the side and placed a kiss on his neck. “Come on.”

 

Illumi’s eyebrows tightened. “I do not want to.”

 

“I’ll be okay, Illuni,” Kalluto said.

 

Finally, reluctantly, Illumi started to back out. Once he was through the door, Hisoka closed it, and left Kalluto and Gon alone.

 

Gon said, “You cut your hair.”

 

Kalluto reached up to touch the bob. “They cut my hair.”

 

“It’s pretty.”

 

“I thought -- you wouldn’t like it,” Kalluto said, still touching his hair. “It’s less feminine this way.”

 

Gon tilted his head. “So?”

 

“You like women,” Kalluto said.

 

“And men,” Gon corrected. “I like you, don’t I?”

 

Kalluto didn’t reply and looked off, growing red in the face.

 

“You’re still going to come to Yorkshin with me, right?”

 

Kalluto looked over to him, startled. It had only been a few days, but he felt weary like he had spent years trapped in the hell that was his mother’s control. “I’d forgotten. I don’t know.”

 

“I’ll help you feel better,” Gon said, pure and earnest.

 

Slowly Kalluto wrapped his fingers between Gon’s own and squeezed. “Then, yeah. I’ll go.”

 

Gon practically beamed. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Kalluto smiled back. “Okay.”

 

They leaned in and kissed and Kalluto sighed in relief. It still felt good. It still felt right. No one had taken this from him. 

 

* * *

 

The saddest part of the entire debacle was, in fact, Milluki.

 

He arrived at the manor the next day with his young wife -- and child. Secrets that he had locked away, and no one knew.

 

“He was born two weeks ago,” Milluki said. “I think I had good reason to keep it from the family.”

 

Zeno stared down at the infant in Milluki’s arms and huffed out a breath. “I suppose you did.”

 

Kalluto looked down at the baby, too. He was small, pink-skinned, and had a small tuft of white hair atop his head. Kalluto looked over to Milluki’s wife -- a petite Japanese girl he had met online. _Gaming._ She smiled at Kalluto and he nodded back.

 

Silva was being kept comatose presently, which meant Illumi was the last one standing to see the child. But he seemed to be frozen in place in the doorway to the parlor.

 

Milluki narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you going to come see him or not?” He barked.

 

Illumi took a few robotic steps forward and then stopped at Milluki’s side. His eyes widened.

 

“See, look, a harmless bab --”

 

“Can I hold him?” Illumi interrupted, voice intense. “Please.”

 

“Hmm.” Milluki hesitated, glaring at him suspiciously.

 

“Let him,” Milluki’s wife said. Slowly, Milluki passed the child, and Illumi held him like he had with his younger siblings in years past.

 

The tiny baby reached out and clumsily grabbed at Illumi’s hair. Illumi used a finger to gently stroke the petite infant hand; the entire appendage the size of his thumb, almost. The baby made a grunt and Illumi shushed, quietly, and rocked him.

 

“What is his name?” Illumi asked.

 

“Tolluni,” Milluki said.

 

Kalluto blinked. “That’s our family tradition,” he said. “You named him after me.”

 

Milluki’s cheeks went pink. “I guess.”

 

Kalluto looked over to Zeno. “Does that make him the heir?”

 

“Maybe,” Zeno said. “We’ll see. Naming heirs hasn’t done us much good.”

 

“I am Illumi,” Illumi introduced himself to the baby. “I am your uncle. The man in the corner, who looks uncomfortable and impatient, is named Hisoka. He is also your uncle.”

 

Hisoka silently played cards by himself, uninterested in the affairs of infants.

 

“I will keep you safe,” Illumi promised.

 

Kalluto smiled and leaned in to look Tolluni in the face, too. “He does a pretty good job, Tollu,” he said. After a minute, they settled into chairs, and Illumi seemed perfectly content to hold the baby forever. Kalluto felt a twinge of something like jealousy and it was almost immediately overridden by a laugh.

 

“Hm?” Illumi looked over.

 

“I just realized,” Kalluto said, and he sounded relieved. “I’m no longer the youngest child.”

 

* * *

 

While trapped in the black box of his own psyche, Kalluto had been able to tap into his abilities of divination on a level he wasn’t sure had been possible before then. The world was like a malleable map he could touch and pull and look. He had to only say a name and they were lit and narrowed and visible to him.

 

Killua’s name fell from his lips quietly, like a prayer in church, and then Kalluto knew.

 

He knew where Killua and Alluka lived.

 

He knew how to get there.

 

He knew where to knock.

 

He didn’t tell Gon.

 

Instead, weeks later during the coldest week of winter, when Gon was deep in a hunt with the Zodiacs, Kalluto took a trip by himself halfway across the world. Into the Harasa Desert. He walked through the sands. He walked into a beam of light hidden by artificial dunes.

 

The light was a portal and on the other side, a city.

 

And Killua.

 

Kalluto knocked on his door, pulling the sand-dusted scarves from his face. It was opened a second later and a man stood before him, extraordinarily tall, and strong, with eyes crystal blue and hair quite light and buzzed quite short.

 

Kalluto smiled. “Hi, Killuni.” And before Killua could say anything else, Kalluto said, “Mother is dead. Father is incapacitated. Illumi is wed. Milluki has a son. And I love Gon.”

 

The gist of it.

  
“Will you come home now?”


End file.
